Contractions of the Heart
by Richonne4Life
Summary: AU Richonne. Michonne is a surrogate for lifelong friend Rick Grimes and his wife Lori; Lori leaves town the day their son is born; Rick is a lovesick fool; Richonne eventually rises. I do not own the TWD characters.
1. Labor Pains

**1\. Labor Pains**

 _Answer the phone, Rick. Answer the phone, Rick. Answer the phone, Rick._

I rubbed my protruding stomach and closely watched Glenn as he held his phone to his ear.

No one would ever accuse me, Michonne Danvers, of being a whimsical, pie-in-the-sky, wishful thinker. Logic, reason, evidence and facts were the pillars of both my personal and professional existence. My mantra was Analyze, Strategize, and Attack.

But under the influence of pregnancy hormones, I threw my principles out the window and tried my hardest to mentally will Rick Grimes to answer his phone.

 _Answer the phone, Rick. Answer the phone, Rick._ _Answer the phone, Rick._

I continued to watch Glenn for any indication that Rick had answered.

Within seconds, I knew.

It was almost imperceptible, but once I saw the crease between Glenn's eyebrows I realized that Rick was not on the other end.

"Voicemail," Glenn said with a slight shake of his head as he ended the call.

We must have called at least 20 times in the last hour and left half as many messages. I wouldn't allow myself to linger on the thought, but something had to be catastrophically wrong to have not heard from him by now.

Rick and I had known each other since we were six years old, and I couldn't recall a time when he wasn't present when something momentous happened. With today shaping up to be one of the most important days of his life—one of the most important days of both of our lives really, his absence was both alarming and distressing.

But as I felt another contraction coming, my concern turned to agitation.

I didn't sign up to have this baby alone. One of the terms we agreed upon more than a year ago specified that the Grimes' were to be present through my labor. Our agreement was being violated.

I was now tremendously pleased that my water broke on Rick and Lori's brand new vintage Victorian-style couch.

"Who gets a $4,000 couch when they're about to have a baby anyways?!" I wondered out loud.

In Rick's defense, the couch was all Lori. He was completely surprised when it was delivered, but since it made Lori happy he didn't complain.

"It's not even a comfortable couch. And it's hideous," I added.

Glenn, who had been by my side since my water broke, was too busy pacing to comment. My unexpected birth partner witnessed my water break almost immediately after he delivered my thin crust, white sauce, pineapple, jalapeño, and spicy sausage pizza. To his credit, he finally stopped looking so bewildered by what was happening and by the random things that came out of my mouth.

Glenn owned Mama Mia Pizza-Rhee-a!, and when I requested an off-the-menu pizza, he not only told me that he'd make it, but he guaranteed that he'd personally deliver it in less than 20 minutes. Music to a pregnant lady's ears.

Although I suspected he would never look at me the same after witnessing my water breaking, I was beyond grateful that Glenn was still here. I also hoped this wouldn't affect my pizza privileges in the future.

"Try calling again?" I asked him as I mentally prepared for the next contraction.

Glenn nodded. "Of course, Michonne."

I prided myself on always having my shit together. Cool, calm and collected was my thing. But my shit was very, very close to being lost.

"Put it on speaker," I groaned as the contraction hit.

The sound of Rick's ringing phone filled the room until we heard his voice.

" _Hey, this is Rick. Leave a message."_

"Rick, this is Gl-"

"Richard Arthur Grimes," I interrupted. "... hee hee hoo... get your ass... hee hee hoo... to the hospital... hee hee hoo... NOW!"

"What she said," Glenn said. "Uh, this is Glenn... Rhee... from Mama Mia's Pizza-Rhee-a!," he added before ending the call.

"...hee hee hoo... " I continued to breath out, trying not to let the pain or the panic break me.

Glenn gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze just as Daryl rushed into the hospital room. His normally stoic face was somewhat panic-stricken.

He was not helping my cause.

"What?!" Glenn and I demanded at the same time.

"It's Lori," he said. "She's missin'."

"What do you mean she's missing?" Glenn asked.

"She's just gone. Clothes are gone. Car is gone. Not answerin' her phone," he shrugged. "Rick's out lookin' for her."

"...hee hee hoo... This can not be happening," I said to no one in particular.

Daryl grunted in agreement as he bit his nails.

After spending what felt like an eternity breathing through the contraction, it mercifully came to an end. I composed myself before looking at Daryl and pointing to my purse.

"Would you bring me my phone?" I asked him.

Once I had it, I scrolled through my contacts until I found Lori. I didn't expect to get ahold of her, but I felt obligated to try.

"You sure that's a good idea?" Daryl asked.

"She needs to be here," I said. "She probably won't answer if Glenn calls because she won't recognize the number. She's definitely not answering if you call because she will recognize the number. I have the best odds of reaching her."

"Barely," Daryl smirked.

"Better than a definitely not," I retorted as I called Rick's wife.

Surprisingly, she answered after the first ring.

"Lori, are you there?" I asked as calmly as possible, as if her child was not actively trying to escape from my body, as if she wasn't the reason why Rick was probably running around town out of his mind.

My question was met with silence.

"Lori, I need you to come to the hospital. Your baby, your son, he's coming."

I heard what sounded like a sniffle.

"Lori!" I snapped, losing patience. I honestly didn't know how much time I had before the next contraction, and I wasn't planning on spending all of it coddling Lori.

"I'm sorry, Michonne. I... I can't," she whimpered.

"You can't _what_?!" I asked sharply, protectively holding my stomach.

When silence was once again her response, I sighed in exasperation.

Lori had never been my favorite person.

I didn't particularly care for her when we met in high school, and that sentiment had not shifted much twenty years later. She and Rick both knew that I'd witnessed too many tantrums, over-the-top outbursts, and attention-seeking spectacles from her to want to be anything more than cordial.

And I was only willing to be cordial because of how dearly I valued my friendship with Rick. She wasn't my cup of tea, but she sure was Rick's. I respected that.

When Rick announced his and Lori's plans to start a family a few years ago, I was excited for the couple. I looked forward to meeting the miniature blue-eyed, brown-haired people that they created. But after a year or so of trying to conceive, Rick confided in me about their fertility issues.

I shared in their heartache over Lori's inability to carry a child. I cried with Rick and grieved for Lori until the sadness eventually stopped weighing us all down.

When they both asked me to consider being their surrogate, I wholeheartedly agreed to do so. Genetically, the baby would be theirs; I would just serve as the oven the bun cooked in.

Lori wasn't thrilled when I drafted a surrogacy agreement, and to a lesser extent neither was Rick. She felt that I was turning something heartfelt and emotional into an impersonal business transaction. But my legal experience had taught me that having an agreement in place was an absolute necessity when it came to an exchange of services. If there wasn't a definitive, clear-cut plan established, the most heartfelt intentions could implode and leave all involved parties feeling victimized.

I wasn't requesting anything extravagant or out of the norm, I just wanted certain details ironed out. Rick and Lori ultimately signed the agreement, but not without adding a stipulation of their own: I was to move into their home for the duration of my pregnancy once I hit the six-month mark.

I thought there was a possibility of Lori and I moving from friendly enough to friends after the pregnancy was confirmed. That hope died once the first trimester ended and she started passively aggressively complaining about my work schedule—which she deemed was too demanding, my diet—which she deemed was too spicy, and my shoes—which she deemed were too dangerous.

Rick, ever the peacemaker, asked me to look at things from her perspective. I wouldn't budge from my perspective though. My job, my food, and my heels were off limits. Those things became points of contention, and the last few months of the pregnancy were tense between me and Lori.

But as I sat on the phone with her, I couldn't deny that I genuinely wanted Lori to be here. As annoying as she was, and she was hands down the most annoying person I'd ever met, I only imagined this moment with her here. This moment wasn't mine to experience alone, nor was it mine to experience just with Rick.

I cursed my hormones as I became teary-eyed.

"Just come to the hospital," I said softly. "Whatever you're going through, it's ok. We'll deal with it. Together. Please just come. We need you here."

I waited for her to reply.

"Lori?" I asked when she didn't say anything. "Lori?!"

I pulled my phone from my ear and looked at the screen. She had ended the call.

As the panic that I had been trying so desperately to suppress finally surfaced, I hurled the phone across the room and screamed. I had officially lost my shit, and I would never forgive Lori Grimes for making me lose it.

I looked up to see matching expressions of shock on Glenn and Daryl's faces.

"No one finds out about this," I warned them both.

Losing my cool in general was a rarity, but to lose it in the fashion that I just had, in front of people that I respected, was humiliating.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

"Glenn, keep trying to reach Rick," I ordered, looking straight ahead at the wall in front of me. "Daryl, bring me some ice."

Since the breathing exercises seemed to work for the contractions, I started doing them to help calm my shot nerves. Glenn got comfortable in the chair near the bed, but I felt Daryl's stare.

"I'm good, D," I said, still looking at the wall.

When he didn't move, I turned my head to look at the man who Rick and I had also known since we were six years old.

He stared at me for a beat before saying with a straight face, "Bitches be crazy, huh?"

Daryl had a knack for saying the most inappropriate things at the most inappropriate times, but in this instance I couldn't have appreciated his inappropriateness more. Those four words made me want to throw my head back and laugh and to break down and cry at the same time.

Damn hormones.

I settled on giving him an exaggerated eye roll.

I glanced at Glenn. The bewildered look returned to his face as he listened to our exchange. I really, really hoped this wouldn't affect my pizza privileges.

"Go get my ice, Daryl," I said.

"Yep," he replied, still not moving.

There was an unspoken question that he was asking, and he wasn't going anywhere until I answered it.

"I'm good," I promised, looking directly into his eyes.

Satisfied, he left the room in search of ice.

I found a spot on the wall to stare at and resumed my breathing exercises.

Lori was running, Rick was blindly chasing after her, and this baby was coming.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

I was restless. My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to let me sleep. My guess was that it was some time after 3AM.

There wasn't a lot I could do this early in the morning—not that I was at all interested in doing anything requiring me to leave my hospital bed, so I did what helped ground me hours ago. I stared at a spot on the wall.

Dr. Cloyd, my OB/GYN, said that I'd had a fast and easy labor and delivery. Likely story from someone who showed up 15 minutes before the baby came out. Fast is not at all how I would describe the experience of pushing a 7-pound, 4-ounce person from my body, and easy is not how I would describe the experience without Rick and Lori being there.

But the little guy was worth it. Since neither of his parents was there to do it, I was the first person to properly welcome him to the world. My arms were the first to cradle him, my lips were the first to kiss him, my voice was the first to tell him that he was loved.

He was a little nugget of joy in the midst of a very tumultuous situation. He left an immediate imprint on my heart.

I contemplated whether the past 24 hours had been the best worst day, the worst best day, or just a crazy, crazy day. Normally, Rick and Daryl were my sounding boards for this type of deliberation, but since Rick was still who-knows-where and Daryl was on my Lori List, I'd have to ponder on my own.

Then again, giving birth truly was exhausting. My body was telling me that I'd need to ponder at another time.

I sighed and let my mind wander to simpler things... like the thin crust, white sauce, pineapple, jalapeño, and spicy sausage pizza that I never got to taste.

"Hey," a familiar voice whispered, startling me from my thoughts.

My eyes shifted until they landed on Rick. He sat in the chair near the window, illuminated by the soft light peeking through the blinds. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him holding his son.

I don't know if it was still the hormones or if it was the experience itself, but I was back to wanting to laugh and to cry again. I'd never been so happy to see Rick while also being so furious with him.

"Hey yourself," I croaked unpleasantly.

He looked up at me with a half smile before looking back down at his son in absolute adoration, and that's all it took for my irritation to melt away.

My curiosity begged me to ask Rick question after question about what happened and what was going on, but it wasn't the time. Instead, my attention was drawn to a congratulatory balloon, a Big Kat candy bouquet, and a 2-liter bottle of Dr Pepper. I immediately grabbed the Dr Pepper.

 _Hello, caffeine!_

"In case you didn't know," I whispered after gulping down almost half of the soda, "the little nugget in your arms is Carl Glendrick Grimes, born at 12:07am."

The warmth from the smile on Rick's face wrapped around me and lulled me to a place of comfort I'd been seeking since my water broke. I curled up to my 2-liter bottle and continued to watch father and son as my eyelids grew heavy. This was infinitely better than staring at the wall.

* * *

"Michonne," I heard Rick whisper.

His voice almost pulled me from my slumbering state, but I felt myself weightlessly drifting back to it.

"Michonne," he whispered again.

I slowly opened my eyes to find Rick standing by the side of the bed.

"Hey," I whispered.

"Hey yourself," he said with a smile as he took the Dr Pepper from me and placed it on the rolling tray next to the bed. "Move over," he whispered.

"Where's Carl?" I asked after yawning and stretching.

Rick nodded his head towards the bassinet. "Sleepin'."

"He looks just like you, Rick."

We looked at each other and grinned. Rick Grimes, once a dirty little boy who chased me around and threw frogs and sticks at me, was a daddy now.

"Michonne, move over," he said in a slightly louder but still hushed voice.

The smile fell from my face. I was ecstatic that he was here, but Rick could be overbearingly bossy at times. Only he would have the nerve to wake me up to make me share my hospital bed after I had given birth.

I turned onto my side to give him space, but not before frowning at him and dramatically sighing.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he muttered as he climbed in and laid on his side to face me. Once he saw the look on my face, he squinted at me.

"Really, Michonne? It's not even your bed."

"Shoes," I ordered.

With a slight eye roll and a smile, he kicked his shoes off.

"You're so bossy," he smirked.

Before I could respond, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. There really was no need for thanks. I wasn't comfortable labeling Rick as my best friend because he was married. If anyone was his best friend, it was his wife. But I couldn't deny our nearly thirty years of history together, so I claimed him as my officially unofficial best friend instead. And what was surrogacy between officially unofficial best friends?

"Don't do that," Rick admonished. "What we asked of you? It was a lot. I doubt most people would do it, but you did. Thank you."

There were so many emotions battling in those blue eyes of his. I could see the gratitude for me, the love and joy for Carl, the distress and heartbreak over Lori. As nerve-wracking as the experience had been for me, I knew it didn't compare to what Rick had gone through. He had simultaneously gained a son and lost a wife.

Best worst day. Worst best day. Crazy, crazy day. We'd have to figure that one out at some point.

"My phone is destroyed," I pouted.

He smiled and playfully kicked my feet. "I heard. I'll get you a new phone."

"A _fancy_ new phone, Rick. All the bells and whistles," I clarified.

Rick had a cheap streak, and I wasn't about to have my Samsung Galaxy S7 replaced with some basic flip phone from the early 2000s.

"The fanciest," he agreed as his eyes closed.

"And my vagina?" I asked, causing his eyes to pop open. "I'm pretty sure it's destroyed too."

He scoffed when he realized I was serious.

"I've known you for how long, Mich? We both know that thang already had quite a few miles on it."

"Your point?" I asked.

"My point is, I seriously doubt that my 7-pound son caused any damage to what was probably already dinged up and dented."

"Seven pounds _and four ounces_ ," I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

He chuckled before leaning over and kissing my forehead.

"Ah, my apologies," he said. "I didn't account for those four ounces. Whatever I can do to get your vagina back in workin' order, I'll do it."

Rick had jokes, but I was truly concerned about the condition of my girl. Daryl and Glenn had both stayed with me through the birth, and while Glenn refused to do anything but hold my hand, Daryl was fine with getting up close and personal. _"Damn, 'Chonne! I've never seen a hole that big!"_ he said laughing in disbelief. Even Dr. Cloyd's jaw dropped at that. She promptly requested that he leave.

I grimaced at the memory before returning my focus to Rick, who looked as if he was quickly giving in to sleep. I hated to bring her up, but the topic of his wife couldn't be avoided completely.

"Lori?" I questioned.

His body tensed and a shade of crimson quickly colored his face. When he finally looked at me, he did so with eyes brimming with remorse, shame, and tears.

"I would never have asked... It wasn't supposed to be... If I'd known that she..." he trailed off, unable to find the words to express himself.

"Stop," I replied. "I don't regret it, Rick. I'm glad I could do this for you, for Carl. I don't regret it."

He released a small sigh of relief when he saw that truth reflecting in my eyes.

"She's gone then?" I asked.

He stared at me for a long moment before answering.

"She left a letter," he said quietly.

I wondered if she had written more than "I can't" in the letter.

"How do I do this alone?" he asked.

"You're not alone," I quickly reassured him, cupping his face and wiping away tears. "You know you have Daryl and me. And it will be impossible to keep Glenn away."

I could see him getting lost in the thoughts running through his mind. I doubted that he'd even heard what I'd said.

"You have all of us," I reiterated firmly, needing him to understand that we would not let him fall. "I'm sorry she's gone, Rick. I really am. But we got this."

As he let out a slow and painful breath and new tears began to fall, I pulled him close. I held him tight as he quietly sobbed.

"We got this, Rick. I got you. Always."


	2. Co-partnering

**A/N: Thank you for reading, reviewing, following, etc.! :) We still have a little ways to go before Richonne happens, so I hope you stick with the story! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **2\. Co-partnering**

The first few months after Carl was born were the most trying months of my life. Rick slid into a deep depression, and I was taking care of a newborn in a full-time, all day, every day capacity.

Lori was still gone, but that didn't stop her words from replaying in a loop in my mind.

" _I can't."_

Those two words served as a daily reminder that she wouldn't be returning to her role as wife, mother, or responsible adult any time soon.

Her actions had ignited a fury within me that was desperate to be unleashed, but there were two sets of matching blue eyes that always cut through the red I would see when I thought about her. I wouldn't let my anger affect Rick and Carl. I wouldn't let my anger make me stupid. But I definitely wasn't ready to let it go, so I worked very, very hard to control it.

Rick chose to bury his emotions under deceptively blissful memories. Those happier times with Lori worked wonders at keeping reality at bay. I quickly learned that I'd have to tread lightly when bringing her up with him...

" _Watch his head," I instructed Daryl while he was bottle-feeding Carl._

" _I got it," he replied._

" _Yeah,_ _I know. Just move your hand up a little bit to support his head."_

" _My hand is fine. His head is fine. I got it," he repeated and then gave me a look._

" _Not supporting the head and neck properly could cause whiplash or torn muscles and ligaments, Daryl," I informed him, reciting what I read in one of Lori's baby books. "You really want to inflict that type of pain on your nephew?"_

 _Daryl ignored me._

" _Rick, is Carl's head OK or is Daryl paying for a baby neck brace in the immediate future?"_

 _When Rick didn't answer, I looked over at him and noticed a faraway look on his face._

" _Thinking about B.C. Lori?" I asked, getting his attention._

" _Lori what?" he questioned._

" _B.C. Lori," I repeated, forgetting that Rick was not at all familiar with the concept._

 _He looked at me, tilted his head, and then squinted._

 _A head tilting, eye squinting Rick Grimes was never a good thing._ _I quickly looked at Daryl, but he had already gotten up and was leaving the room with Carl. Typical._

 _Daryl and I had come up with "B.C. Lori" and "B.S. Lori" theories after observing Rick's faraway looks. There was the faraway look with a smile and the faraway look with a frown._ _The faraway look with a smile meant he was thinking of B.C. Lori. This was the Lori he knew before Carl was born. This was the Lori who hadn't shattered his world._ _The faraway look with a frown meant he was thinking of B.S. Lori. This was the Lori who came to be after Carl was born. Since Daryl and I both thought she was full of bullshit, we agreed that the label was fitting._

" _What does 'B.C. Lori' mean, Michonne?" Rick asked, continuing to squint at me._

 _Because we were more than familiar with how each other's minds worked, I knew he knew what it meant. The head tilt and eye squint told me he wanted to argue about it._

 _Suddenly he jumped up and looked down at me. "She's comin' back, Michonne. She'll be back."_

Rick was in denial, plain and simple. Denial and false hope went hand-in-hand, so I wasn't surprised by his declarations that she would be back.

He had very selfishly not offered to let me read the letter that she left, so I couldn't say if his conviction was also being driven by something she had written. But those B.C. Lori memories were definitely the driving force behind his faith in his wife.

Initially, he believed that she'd return within a few weeks. After a few weeks passed, he believed that she'd return within a month. After a month passed, he stopped discussing her.

Between the fatigue that set in from taking care of a newborn and the physical discomfort that came from recovering from childbirth, I completely missed the signs that Rick was not ok. I didn't realize that as each day passed without Lori returning, he was slowly being consumed by depression.

After Lori left, there was an undeniable sadness in Rick's eyes. All things considered, being sad wasn't an unreasonable response. I also didn't think it was a cause for concern since that sadness wasn't the only thing there. He still expressed joy and excitement over being a new father. He still exuded his trademark combination of confidence, charm, and bossiness.

But I grossly underestimated the depths of his sadness.

It took a month for it to slowly drown out all of the light within Rick. And for the month after that, he was engulfed by it. On Rick's good days, he was dazed and disoriented. On his bad days, he was completely despondent.

Before I was discharged from the hospital, Rick and I shared a brief glance to discuss that I'd continue living with him to help with Carl. I wasn't prepared in any way to take on the last minute responsibility, but no challenge ever got the best of me.

Rick's depression, however, made an already challenging situation nearly impossible to embrace.

Once he was depressed, his engagement with Carl was non-existent, which meant that helping out with Carl morphed into me being primarily responsible for Carl. Rick's concern for his own basic needs was non-existent, which meant that he became my responsibility too.

Carl's well-being took priority. I made sure that he was fed when he was hungry, that he was cleaned up after a messy meal or a dirty diaper, and that he was undisturbed when he slept. Once his needs were met, I'd check on Rick. Trying to get him to eat, bathe, and sleep was an exhausting undertaking, especially when I already felt like I was running on fumes by the time I got around to him. But I made an effort at least once a day.

As draining as my new routine was, I didn't think Carl was a particularly difficult child. He cried a lot though. A lot.

I had zero experience with babies, but the crying seemed excessive and borderline vengeful to me. It may have been the pregnancy hormones, but it felt like Carl was punishing me because he knew I wasn't his mother and sensed my animosity towards her.

During one of Carl's checkups, his pediatrician Dr. Peletier assured me that his crying was normal. Likely story from someone who was sleeping through the night instead of holding a shrieking baby until the break of dawn.

When Carl wasn't fussy, one of my favorite things to do was to cuddle him and discuss comic book heroes. I could tell by the way he gurgled during our Superman vs. Batman conversations that he agreed with me: Superman was the far superior hero.

Daryl and I weren't comfortable allowing anyone to see Rick in his depressed state, so we denied visitors, intercepted phone calls, and protected Rick the best that we could. Glenn was disappointed that he wasn't able to spend time with us, but he was an understanding type of guy so he respected our wishes. Since he wanted to help out in some way, he started leaving pizza and salad at the front door twice a week. Most days I was too tired to chew, but I appreciated the support.

When I asked Daryl if we should look in to getting Rick professional help, he didn't give the question much thought at all.

"Nah, not yet. He'll be alright," he said, throwing a wadded up piece of paper at me. "He's just workin' through things. And you're here."

"And what else, Daryl?" I asked suspiciously when I caught a look on his face.

"And he has me too," he said nonchalantly.

"And?" I asked.

"And he has a walkie-talkie now."

Daryl had been trying to get me and Rick on the walkie-talkie bandwagon since the beginning of the pregnancy. I couldn't think of a logical or practical reason to have one at that time, so I was out. Lori thought any idea of Daryl's was absurd, so Rick was out too. But Lori was no longer a factor and I was too exhausted to shoot the idea down, so Rick now had a walkie-talkie.

I gave Daryl an exaggerated eye roll and shook my head.

"And you just got off the Lori List," I said to him.

"The hole was big, Michonne," he said matter-of-factly.

I ignored him and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

I actually did see the usefulness of Rick and Daryl using walkie-talkies. We'd taken Rick's cell phone from him after discovering that he'd been calling one of Lori's girlfriends nonstop to question her about Lori's whereabouts. Rick wasn't getting his phone back any time soon, so the walkie-talkies were the best way for him to at least be able to communicate with Daryl regularly.

Daryl wouldn't admit it, but I knew he felt guilty that he wasn't able to do more to help out. He wanted to move in so that we could split the responsibility of taking care of Carl and Rick, but his job as a youth correctional counselor prevented him from doing so. He worked irregular hours, traveled frequently, and the job itself was very emotionally and, at times, physically demanding.

I'd given him a key to the house though—another change that came with Lori's absence, so he was free to stop by whenever he wanted.

I hated that Daryl focused on what he couldn't do because what he was able to do meant everything.

The three of us were family.

As long as we were together in some way, we would get through anything.

Almost anything.

After a somewhat traumatic experience with Carl when he was a little over two months old, my empathy for Rick dried up. Carl had an ear infection and had been crying more so than usual. I could handle the wailing since that had become the soundtrack to my life, but it was the accompanying diarrhea that was a harder pill to swallow.

He'd just had a particularly explosive night, and when I was in the bathroom washing my hands I caught sight of my reflection.

Shell-shocked, I left the bathroom.

"It's ok, Nugget," I said over his wailing as I picked him up.

I cringed at the smell that was coming from his diaper and tried not to frown at Nugget. I had just changed him.

"Hold tight. I'm going to get your daddy."

Once I secured him in his Cradle n' Swing contraption, I gathered a package of diapers, butt wipes, and baby powder and headed to the master bedroom. Rick was sitting up in his bed and speaking into his walkie-talkie. Any other time, I would have been grateful that he was starting to emerge from his zombie-like state and was conversing with Daryl. But the universe's timing was off.

I threw the diapers, then the butt wipes, and then the baby powder at him.

"What the hell, Michonne?!" he shouted, shielding himself from the flying objects.

"What the hell, Rick!" I shouted back. "I HAVE SHIT IN MY HAIR!"

I walked over and grabbed the walkie-talkie from him.

"Bye, Daryl!"

"Over and out, 'Chonne," Daryl replied.

I dropped the device to the carpeted floor before walking to the foot of the bed and sitting down. Carl's cries filled the silence while Rick and I stared at each other. I closed my eyes and started counting backwards to try to center myself.

 _10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1..._

"Rick," I finally said, opening my eyes to look at him again.

"Michonne," he said defensively.

"I get it," I began. "She's not here."

Though he averted his gaze, I continued on.

"But the reason she's not here is because she walked away. She didn't die. She wasn't taken. She didn't just disappear. She chose to walk away."

Rick remained silent, and I felt myself becoming frustrated.

 _10...9..._

"No," I said, shaking my head. "You owe me more than silence right now. Talk to me!"

His eyes drifted to my locs, which were piled in a lopsided bun on the top of my head.

"A loss is still a loss," he said. "Even if...even if she chose to walk away."

"I don't disagree, Rick" I told him. "But you're still here. I'm still here. After everything we all went through to get Carl, he's here. And he needs you. So you have to get it together. Not for you, not for me, not for Lori, but for Carl. You can't resent that he's-"

"I do not resent my son," he stated firmly, his eyes flashing.

"Then what are you doing, Rick?" I asked him. "When was the last time you held him? Fed him? Got lost looking at him? Tried to make him smile? He's crying right now, and it's taking everything in me not to go to him. Can you say the same?"

"This isn't how it's supposed to be," he said quietly.

I laughed humorlessly.

"In case you haven't noticed, we're in the same boat. This isn't at all how things are supposed to be. I was the surrogate, and now..."

"And now you're more," he said.

"And now I'm more," I repeated, reaching out and affectionately squeezing his foot. "We don't give up just because things aren't the way we think they should be. Time doesn't stop, Rick. Life doesn't stop. Living shouldn't stop. Things break, but they can still grow."

He looked away and dropped his head. I knew he was crying, and as much as I wanted to comfort him, I couldn't. Not yet.

"You're entitled to your sadness, and your heartache, and every other emotion that you're feeling now or that you will feel down the road. But you have to learn how to feel those things after you take care of your son. Your world got so much bigger a few months ago. It's not just about you and Lori anymore," I told him. "So get to know your son. He's kind of an amazing kid."

Gaining strength from my words, I stood up.

"Carl is due for a diaper change, and he has ear medicine that needs to be dropped. So that's what you're gonna do. No more bullshit, Rick."

He looked up at me with his tear-streaked face.

"He needs to come first, or this," I motioned between the two of us with my hand, "doesn't work. This co-partnership, or whatever you want to call what we're doing, it doesn't work if I'm doing it alone."

I stared at him, waiting on his response. I knew my words had penetrated, but I needed confirmation.

He nodded once.

"His medicine is on the counter in his bathroom," I said, picking up the walkie-talkie and handing it to him.

"I'm sorry for the diapers... and the butt wipes... and the baby powder. But your kid did somehow manage to projectile shit into my hair," I said. "Temporary insanity," I added with a shrug.

He put the walkie-talkie down on the bed and then held onto my hand.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey yourself," I whispered back as he pulled me down into a hug.

"Rick?" I asked after a few minutes.

"Yeah, Michonne?"

I pulled away from him slightly so that I could look into his eyes. "You still owe me a fancy phone and vaginal reconstruction."

When he rolled his eyes, I knew I had him back.

"Go get your son," I said, kissing the side of his forehead.

I left his room and walked down the hall to the guest room I was staying in. After I closed and locked the door, I flopped onto the bed. When I heard Rick walking to Carl's room, I felt the weight of the last two months lift from my body.

As Carl's crying got louder, I knew that Rick was walking towards my room. He knocked on my door, but I didn't answer. He probably wanted to ask about the ear drops, but the instructions were clear so he would figure it out on his own. He stood there for another minute or so before walking away.

I got out of bed and made a beeline for my bathroom to get to my shower and shampoo.

I didn't speak to Rick for three days after that. I'd never given Rick the silent treatment before, and it wasn't that I was giving it to him now. I just needed silence.

It had been a long year. Pregnancy. Child birth. Hormones. Losing my shit. Depression. Child-rearing...

I needed time for me.

I stayed locked in the bedroom catching up on sleep, skimming through baby books, and showering and brushing my teeth twice a day. Those were the luxuries that I wasn't able to work into my day when I was taking care of Carl on my own, so I took great pleasure in doing those things.

I also jumped on the walkie-talkie bandwagon. I only used it to check in with Daryl to see how Rick was doing, but I had to admit, it was kind of fun. It took me back to happy memories from our childhood.

Rick gave me my space, and he was kind enough to leave meals outside my door. I finally got to enjoy my thin crust, white sauce, pineapple, jalapeno, and spicy sausage pizza. It was delicious.

On the third day of my self-sequester, I felt an ache in my chest. I missed my little Nugget. And now that Rick was feeling something other than depressed, I longed to spend time with my officially unofficial best friend. Before I went to sleep that night, Rick slid a note card under my door.

I smiled as I read his terrible handwriting: "Carl's sorry about your hair. (Fun fact, he also projectile vomits)."

He'd drawn an arrow on the bottom right corner of the card, so I flipped it over.

The other side of the card read: "I'm still here."


	3. Good for Now

**A/N: Thank you if you're still reading! My plan was to update biweekly, but you know how it goes.. Life gets in the way! Enjoy! And hurrah! It's almost 2/12!**

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 **3\. Good for Now**

 **Maggie:** _My ass hurts!_

 **Maggie:** _Why couldn't her hobby be somethin fun..._

 **Maggie:** _Like margaritas by the pool?_

 **Maggie:** _Or mojitos by the pool?_

 **Maggie:** _Or beer by the pool?_

 **Michonne:** _Lol. I tried to warn you_

 **Maggie:** _U did_

 **Maggie:** _It was so worth the sore ass tho!_

 **Maggie:** _Never seen someone's jaw drop like that_

 **Maggie:** _And when u called her a thirsty Gymboree ho?_

 **Maggie:** _LOL_

I shook my head and smiled at Maggie's texts. I had no doubt that she was actually throwing her head back and laughing out loud.

Rick, Daryl and I had only known Glenn and Maggie for a relatively short time, but we had welcomed them into our circle. Carl was fast approaching his first birthday, and their unwavering support played a huge role in why he was such a healthy and happy baby. Because of how much we'd grown to depend on and trust those two, we'd come to an agreement about them. Glenn and Maggie were family.

Glenn's acceptance was expected considering he was one-third of the reason Carl's middle name was Glendrick. Maggie was the unforeseen addition.

On the day my water broke, the most I'd known about her was that she and Glenn were dating. After Rick emerged from his fog of depression, I learned that Glenn and Maggie were actually in the attached at the hip stage of love. Work, sleep, and random one-off situations like staying by a pregnant lady's side after she goes into labor were the only things that seemed to keep them apart.

When they were together, their magnetism was at times breathtaking. They seemed to melt into each other with every shared touch, kiss, and look. Daryl, who had been both disgusted and charmed by how inseparable they were, started referring to them as Gleggie because of their constant state of oneness.

He and I silently rejoiced when they moved into the balancing togetherness and individuality stage of love, but their nickname stuck.

When I thought about how important Glenn and Maggie had become to us, it was hard to believe that pizza cravings were what put us on the path to becoming family. Glenn and I met when I was about six months pregnant and desperately craving pizza. Mama Mia Pizza-Rhee-A! had fantastic reviews online, and after my first visit I understood why. The pizza was amazing, and Glenn's easy-going, high-spirited personality created a vibrant atmosphere.

He was clearly a man in love with his life, and you could taste that love in his food.

Mama Mia's pizza quickly became a staple in my diet. Since Rick and Lori were experimenting with a gluten-free, vegan lifestyle at the time and Daryl was rarely able to join me on his lunch breaks, I mostly dined there on my own.

Most people received a Rick Grimes-caliber head tilt and eye squint if they asked to rub my stomach, but I made an exception for Glenn. I wasn't sure if Carl was naturally responsive to Glenn or if he was somehow associating Glenn's voice with food, but he always moved around enthusiastically when Glenn rubbed my stomach and spoke to him.

Because I was mostly at Mama Mia's during lunch rush hours, Glenn and I never had enough time to do more than chit chat, but the foundation of our friendship was laid from our many brief conversations.

Developing a friendship with Maggie had been slightly more difficult. I recognized immediately that she was a genuine person, but since I'd never felt the need to establish female friendships, I initially kept my guard up with her. It took Mama Mia's and a glass of merlot for Maggie and I to finally connect.

Gleggie invited me, Rick and Daryl to the restaurant for a private after-hours dinner. Daryl declined, preferring to spend his free time one-on-one with Carl, so Gleggie and Rick and I met at Mama Mia's. When the boys were in the kitchen, Maggie sat down next to me, poured two glasses of wine, looked me in the eye and said, "We can be friends now or we can be friends later who regret that we weren't friends now. Your choice."

 **Maggie:** _When do u think Rick will say somethin?_

I was about to text my response when I was interrupted by a knock on my bedroom door.

"Are you decent?" Rick asked on the other side of the door.

"I'm decent!" I shouted.

He opened the door and leaned in the doorway with an especially serious look on his face.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"Sure, Rick," I responded, trying to sound as casual as possible.

I knew exactly what, or rather who, he wanted to talk about. Jessie Anderson. The married, but recently separated, stay-at-home mom to 11-month old Ronnie.

Carl and Ronnie were enrolled in the same Tuesday and Thursday morning Gymboree classes. The classes were supposed to be about the babies, but Rick had caught Jessie's eye. In the last week alone, she arranged three early evening play dates for Carl and Ronnie at Rick's house.

It was more than clear that she was using Ronnie as an excuse to sniff around Rick. It was even clearer that she really, really liked what she was sniffing.

If Rick was aware of her ulterior motives, he didn't let on. I was still living with Rick and Carl though, and after three evenings of Jessie's girl next door act, I was ready to shut that shit down.

"Is that Maggie?" Rick questioned, nodding towards my phone.

"Yeah, we were just kicking around ideas for Carl's birthday," I answered.

Rick stared at me, weighing the legitimacy of my words.

"Uh huh," he finally replied.

I shot Maggie a quick text before I put my phone to the side.

 **Michonne:** _About to have the talk..._

 **Maggie:** _Call me later!_

I looked at Rick and watched as his eyes took in my appearance.

"So you're the reason I haven't been able to find all my pajama pants," he said with a smirk, looking at the pair I was wearing.

"I've been borrowing them, yes," I responded simply. "But you know I get cold, Rick."

I had borrowed two, possibly three, but no more than four pairs of his pajama bottoms over the past few months, but they kept me warm and they were very comfortable so I had no intention of giving them back.

"Where's my Nugget?" I asked, changing the topic.

"Finally down for a nap," he said with a tired sigh as he entered the room. "It took 45 minutes."

"Maybe if you sang something other than Row, Row, Row Your Boat he'd fall asleep faster," I said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbled as he stood next to the bed. "Move over," he ordered while lightly kneeing the side of the mattress.

I rolled my eyes at him.

"You do know if you added 'would you please' to the beginning of that you'd come across as less of an ass," I said, checking his feet for shoes or slippers.

"Less of an ass, huh?" he said, laughing. "Well you know if you stopped stealin' my pajamas you'd come across as less of a thief."

I shook my head with a look of disappointment as I made room for him.

"Work on your comebacks, Grimes."

Rick sat next to me, resting his back against the headboard and stretching out his legs.

"You know no one else has that problem but you," I said to him, bumping his shoulder with mine.

"And what problem is that?" he asked.

"Getting Nugget to fall asleep. I really do think it's your song choice. Daryl's go-to is Walk this Way. Glenn's is Lose Yourself. And yesterday I got him to fall asleep to Girls Just Want to Have Fun."

Rick groaned.

"My poor child is gonna grow up musically confused. And please stop with the Cyndi Lauper catalog. I heard you singin' True Colors last week."

I laughed. "Never."

He smiled at me briefly before his face turned serious again.

"Michonne, what did you say to Jessie?"

I looked away from him, opting to stare straight ahead.

"What would I possibly have to say to Jessie?" I asked.

I felt his eyes searching the side of my face. "That's two lies in the last few minutes," he said.

"One lie and a sidestep," I quickly countered.

Rick wasn't amused. "So you and Maggie did take Jessie's spin class yesterday? You did corner her in the locker room?"

"Wow. Cornered in the locker room? That's a gross exaggeration," I said while crossing my arms. "And what else did she tell you?"

"Nuthin'. She did cancel our plans today though."

I didn't like the twinge of disappointment I heard in his voice. But after the little chat I had with Jessie after I _approached_ her in the locker room, she better have canceled their plans.

I adjusted my position on the bed so that I was facing Rick.

"And what kind of plans did you and Jessie have exactly?" I asked.

He looked away for a fraction of a second before he answered.

"A haircut. She was gonna give me a haircut."

"A haircut? Is that what you married folks are calling it nowadays?" I asked.

A touch of pink colored his face.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about," he claimed. "She's practically a licensed hair stylist, and my hair is overdue for a cut."

"Uh huh," I responded. "Who's lying now?"

When he broke our eye contact again, my eyes traveled to his wild curls.

"Remember how you and Daryl were my living mannequin heads when we were kids? And I'd put your mom's pink foam rollers in your hair?"

"Yes, Michonne," he deadpanned, clearly not thrilled by the memory.

"I've always loved your curls," I said with a smile, tempted to twist one around my finger.

"Michonne," Rick sighed, waiting for me to make eye contact with him before continuing. "What-"

"I told her in no uncertain terms that your curls were off limits, Rick. I told her that all of you is off limits. No haircuts _._ "

His face hardened slightly before he spoke. "That's not your call to make."

"I know it's not," I shrugged. "But it's still the call I made."

He stared at me as he gathered his thoughts.

"I don't think you realize it," I said before eyeing him suspiciously. "Or maybe you do... But she's basically Lori with a bad dye job."

"That's not true," he said defensively.

"It is true," I snapped back. "They both have that kind of simple, kind of sweet, kind of fragile, kind of drama thing going on. She might as well be Lori 2.0."

Rick started to squint at me.

"Don't you dare squint at me, Rick Grimes," I warned. "She's married. _You're_ married. Since when does that not mean anything to you?"

"And all this time I didn't think you cared about my marriage," he said irritably.

"I care about you and your principles," I told him, trying to control the volume and tone of my voice. "I care about how your actions affect Nugget and how they affect me. I care about not having to deal with Lori and Lori 2.0 drama at the same time."

Rick sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"And FYI, I won't deal with it. You get one Lori-induced crisis, and you already had it."

"If only I'd known," he said sarcastically. "I would've skipped the depression and went straight for adultery."

I narrowed my eyes at him and stood up.

"You're obviously going through something that you don't want to talk about. You want to make your bad situation worse? Knock yourself out! But find someone else to watch your son while you're screwing your Lori stand-in!" I spat.

Rick quickly grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down.

"Wait, wait, wait... I'm sorry, Michonne," he said, releasing my wrist. "I shouldn't have said that. It was a bad joke."

The sincerity in his eyes kept me from storming out the room.

"That's it?" I asked. "You shouldn't have made a bad joke?"

He rested his head against the headboard and looked up at the ceiling. "Acceptin' Jessie's offer for a haircut was a bad idea," he admitted.

Even with the state of his marriage being what it was, it was troubling that Rick would even think about violating his marriage vows. That just wasn't who he was.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

"I heard from Lori," he confessed quietly.

"You heard from Lori?!" I whisper-shouted as I jumped up. "When?!"

Rick pulled me back down by wrist.

"When, Rick?" I asked again, pulling out of his grasp.

"Two days ago."

"You spoke to her?" I demanded to know.

"She left a message."

"Voicemail or text?" I asked.

"Voicemail."

"What time?" I asked.

"At 3:16. I missed the call," he said dejectedly. "I didn't notice the voicemail until I was at work."

I stared at him expectantly. He still hadn't let me read the letter she'd written, but there was no way he wasn't playing that voicemail for me.

"I know you didn't erase it, Rick. Where's your phone?" I asked.

Rick sighed as he reached into his pocket.

I grabbed his phone, unlocked it, dialed his voicemail, and put it on speaker.

" _You have two new messages and one saved message,"_ his phone reported.

I skipped through the new messages left by Daryl and Dr. Peletier's office so that I could get to Lori's. I held my breath as her voice filled the room.

 _"Please don't hate me, Rick."_

I looked at Rick after the message ended.

"Is that it? That's all she said?" I asked in disbelief.

Rick nodded.

"Did you try to call her back?"

"She called from an unknown number," he said, looking and sounding more pitiful by the second. "Her cell phone's still disconnected."

I don't know what it was about Lori Grimes and phones, but she had me wanting to hurl Rick's across the room.

"Calm down, Michonne," Rick said, sensing my rising anger.

I looked at him. I looked into his blue eyes, and I felt a calm start to cut through the red.

"Give me the phone," he said, trying to pull it from my hand.

I snatched my hand away from his and stood up.

"That selfish bitch!" I shouted.

Staying calm was no longer an option.

"Keep your voice down," Rick cautioned, tilting his head in the direction of Carl's room as he stood up too.

We stared at each other from opposite sides of the bed.

"She's been gone for ten months, TEN MONTHS, and that's all she has to say?!" I continued, too riled to care about my volume.

"Michonne, please! Carl is asleep!" he nearly shouted.

"Why aren't you angry?!" I questioned.

"I'm askin' for my phone, Michonne. Are you gonna give it to me?"

I held on to the phone.

"We both work with people who can track her down. I work with people who can draft divorce papers. Just give me the green light to reach out to someone," I all but pleaded.

"You know I can't do that. I won't," he said firmly. "She's still my wife. I still love her."

I stared at him, trying to understand what he was saying and why he was saying it.

"But she doesn't love you," I said bluntly. "How could she possibly love you and not be here?"

Rick place his hands at his hips and tried to steady his breathing.

"You don't understand," he said. "But you have to believe me when I tell you that she loves us."

I was bewildered. Did we not just listen to the same message? Were we not talking about the person who had never seen or held her child?

"She didn't even mention Carl!" I angrily whispered, pacing the length of the room.

"Mich-"

"And you? You throw the word love around as if it has no weight," I accused him. "She abandons her family. You joke about adultery. That's not love, Rick."

"She called, Michonne. That means somethin'," he said.

"It doesn't mean love," I quipped.

"And Jessie? That would have been a mistake. I get it," he said. "I just really miss Lori. I just-"

"You just what, Rick?" I stopped pacing and stood across from him again. "Do you not see the effect that a five second voicemail has had on you? She's not good for you. And she's not good for Nugget."

"She will be though," he replied.

A part of me empathized with Rick. In so many ways, he was still the fifteen year old boy who fell in love with Lori. Part of me pitied him. I'd never seen anyone so blinded by and drawn to another person like Rick was to Lori. And a part of me was starting to resent him. I was sick and tired of him not being sick and tired of his absent wife.

Although Daryl, Maggie and Glenn assisted with Carl as often as they could, Rick and I were the two who were affected the most by Lori's behavior. It was a given that Rick's emotional well-being had been affected, but her selfishness had robbed him of another love in his life. His job.

Once he was cleared to return to work, Rick gave up his role as a sheriff's deputy for a third shift desk officer position. We didn't live in a particularly high crime or violent city, but he wanted to eliminate as much danger and risk from his job that he could. He believed in Lori, but until she actually returned, he was terrified of leaving Carl parentless. A desk job was the safest role that would allow him to remain with the department. He requested the third shift to guarantee that one of us was always at the house with Carl.

While I didn't give up my dream job, Lori's behavior had still cost me something. When I extended my maternity leave to the full three months, I inadvertently missed out on an opportunity that would have kept me on the fast track to making partner at my firm. I didn't regret spending those first three months with Carl and Rick, but that decision had changed my future.

I was also still living in the Grimes' home after what was supposed to have been a six month commitment. The initial plan was that I'd live here for six months or until Lori returned, whichever happened sooner. But almost a year later, I was practically a permanent fixture in the house.

Rick didn't see it, but when Lori came back she was going to do so as a disruptive force. She would either break Rick's heart when she refused to step into her role as wife and mother or she would break his heart when she attempted to step into those roles and failed miserably.

I honestly didn't know if I had the energy or the will to support Rick through either of the scenarios. For the first time in my life, I didn't know if I could be there for my lifelong friend if Lori was going to be involved again.

I handed Rick his phone.

"Are we good?" he quietly asked.

"Yeah, Rick. We're good," I responded, although we both knew "for now" went unspoken.


	4. Happy Hour

**A/N: Thank you for reading! We still have some chapters before Richonne, so hang in there if you can! Rick and Michonne aren't quite a match for each other just yet. Also, I love reading your reviews, so thank you for those** **too!**

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 **4\. Happy Hour**

"Through the lips, and over the gums, look out stomach, here it comes!" Daryl said animatedly as he fed Carl a spoonful of applesauce.

Carl, who was very much enjoying his favorite food, gurgled happily and kicked his legs enthusiastically in his highchair. I wanted to capture the moment, but since Daryl wasn't thrilled that I'd shown up at his house unannounced and uninvited, I highly doubted that he was in the mood to pose for pictures.

Outside of grunting at me when he opened the front door, he'd ignored me the five or so minutes I'd been there.

"What do you want?" he finally asked before gently wiping applesauce from Carl's chin and making a funny face at him.

"How about, 'Hi, 'Chonne, it's so good to see you! What an unexpected but pleasant surprise!'"

Daryl turned his head to look at me. "Nah. What do you want?"

I didn't care for his ornery attitude, but I was relieved to see him looking so rested.

Daryl's workload had nearly doubled over the last few months because of budget cuts and layoffs. Although Rick and I regularly badgered him to take time off, he'd only recently decided to do so. He spent the first part of his weeklong vacation on a road trip with his motorcycle club, and he was spending the tailend of it with Carl.

I understood his annoyance with me for intruding on their time together, but in my defense I'd never had an opportunity to discuss the Jessie-Lori fiasco with him before he went on vacation.

Rick and I were still seamlessly co-partnering Nugget, but the natural flow of our friendship now felt a little murky. Murky was uncharted territory for the two of us, and I didn't know what to do with how that felt. Without Nugget being the buffer between us over the weekend, I needed Daryl's perspective to help clear things up.

I grabbed a bottled water and what looked like half of a turkey sandwich from Daryl's refrigerator and then sat on a stool at his kitchen island.

"You took some really beautiful pictures on your road trip, D. You almost posted more on Instagram this week than Glenn did," I said teasingly.

He grunted.

I bit into the sandwich and chewed slowly. He wasn't going to make this easy.

"How are you feeling about returning to work on Monday?" I tried.

He grunted again.

I took another bite of the sandwich.

Daryl glanced at me briefly.

"Spit it out, Michonne. Everything else is wastin' my time right now," he said, feeding Carl more applesauce.

"You do realize that most people come back from a vacation relaxed and in a good mood, right? What's your problem, Daryl?"

"You and Rick are my problem," he said testily. "And I'm still on vacation, so let's get to it."

Rick had dropped Carl off at Daryl's earlier in the day, so I was certain that Daryl had some idea about what happened. I finished the sandwich and then took a sip of water before getting to it.

"Did Rick tell you he heard from Lori?" I asked.

"He did. Told me about Jessie too," he said, giving me a side eye.

"And?"

"And what?" he replied.

"And what do you think about all of it, Daryl?"

"I think I don't know if Maggie's a bad influence on you, if you're a bad influence on her, or if I've been missin' somethin'," he answered.

"Wait, what?" I asked, confused by his assessment. I was planning on us discussing Rick's behavior, not mine.

"And the more I think about all of it, the more I'm leanin' towards me missin' somethin' all this time," he added. "Harassin' some chick because she's all hot and bothered for Rick? Really?"

"That's completely oversimplifying things," I said.

Daryl gave me a look before giving Carl another spoonful of applesauce.

"I was protecting Rick," I argued.

"Did he ask you to protect him?"

I let my silence answer for me.

"Oversimplifyin' my ass," he grumbled.

"Language, Daryl," I grumbled back.

"What happened to Little Miss Always Has Her Shit Together? Because lately, when it comes to Rick, she's nowhere to be found," Daryl declared.

"It's the hormones, and you know it," I said, trying not to narrow my eyes. "And Nugget's first word better not be 'ass' or 'shit,'" I warned.

"That damn hormone card you keep playin' is expired, and you know it," he said dismissively. "And Little Asskicker can handle big boy words."

I stifled a groan. I would love to debate over my hormones and big boy words, but there was a more pressing matter at hand.

"So you think I should have stayed out of it?" I asked.

"You know you should have stayed out of it," he replied, feeding Carl the last of the applesauce. "You need to take a step back. This is just like that time I was fightin' Merle."

"Are you seriously bringing up that fight?" I asked.

"I didn't ask for your help," he continued on. "But you still jumped in. And what happened?"

"Unbelievable!" I said with a short laugh. "How am I still being blamed twenty-something years later for your brother punching me in the breast?! He was literally kicking you while you were down. And he was stealing my Nintendo!"

Merle was high out of his mind from huffing paint thinner. I'm not sure what he saw or what he was aiming for, but he managed to connect his left fist with my right breast after I tried to push him away from Daryl.

When Merle was released from jail, he made sure to apologize to me in person for assaulting my "Nubian bosom." It was rare for him to apologize for anything, but if there was one thing Merle loved, it was the female body. He genuinely regretted causing any harm to mine after he found out what he'd done.

Causing harm to his brother and stealing my Nintendo, however, fell into a different category. Apologies were not doled out for those offenses.

"It was my fight to win or lose," Daryl said.

"You could've ended up in the hospital with more than just the bruised ribs, Daryl."

"But it was my fight to win or lose," he repeated.

I'd heard this argument since the moment the fight ended, and I always responded the same.

"It was worth it," I said with a shrug. "I'd take the same punch for you today if it meant-"

"And that's your problem," he interjected. "Sacrificing for us is always worth it to you, even when it's unnecessary."

What Daryl saw as self-sacrificing, I saw as loyalty; as love. If taking one of Merle's punches meant there was one less blow that Daryl received, then the punch was worth it. If I had to choose between possibly letting my family sink or definitely helping them swim, I'd always choose to help them swim.

"And what exactly am I sacrificing because of Rick?" I questioned.

He snorted.

I stared at him, waiting for a concrete example.

"'Chonne, you've always been smart, right?"

"Right," I agreed.

"You've always thought things through? Weighed your options?"

"I have," I said.

"You've always been reasonable?"

"Of course," I replied.

"But you threaten some chick because she has a crush on Rick?" he asked. "I think we can both agree you sacrificed a few things that day. Do I need to go on?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Of course you'd take Rick's side on this," I complained.

"It's not about sides. It's about Rick fightin' his own battles and makin' his own decisions," he said as he picked Carl up. "Ain't that right?" he asked Carl. "Your daddy has to make his own decisions."

Carl grabbed Daryl's chin and giggled.

"Gotta let him stand on his own, find his own way. And if he crashes and burns? Well, that's ok. He's Rick Grimes. He'll figure it out," he said.

Doubts of Rick's ability to stand on his own swirled through my mind. He had never spent a day of his adult life flying solo.

"You don't always have to jump in to save us, Michonne. You gave this little guy to Rick. You helped him through what was probably the darkest moment of his life. Take a step back. Let him get his shit together."

"Language," I huffed. "So I should say nothing? Do nothing while he makes bad decision after bad decision?"

"Not sayin' that at all. But like I've told you before, to support and to save are two different things. Let him save himself. That's what's best for him, best for Carl, best for y-"

Carl interrupted Daryl with a loud squeal as he reached for his bottle on the highchair tray.

"Best for whoever he ends up with," Daryl said as he grabbed the bottle.

"I suppose so," I commented.

Daryl gave me a look I couldn't quite interpret and then grunted.

"Now do you mind? Little Asskicker and I have plans," he said, effectively ending our conversation.

I would reflect on Daryl's words later; I knew there was merit in what he said. As I watched him holding Nugget, I couldn't help but to feel sentimental. We were all so fortunate to have Daryl in our lives.

He was truly an incredible person full of so much insight and wisdom and empathy.

"Take your giant hole and leave, woman!" Daryl ordered.

I sighed. He was full of something else sometimes too.

I hopped off the stool and walked over to Daryl who handed Carl to me.

"Have fun, Nugget," I said looking into his baby blues that so closely mirrored his dad's. "And try not to listen to Uncle Crazy too much, ok?"

I smiled as Carl bobbled his head in what I took as a sign of agreement. I kissed his chubby cheeks before handing him back to Daryl.

"See ya, D," I said as I gave him a hug.

"Hey, it is good to see you," he admitted, kissing the side of my forehead. "Even if you pop up unexpectedly to cry about Rick and eat the last of my damn turkey sandwich."

"I know it's good to see me," I said, walking away and sticking my tongue out at him. "And I wasn't crying over Rick. And language!"

"Uh huh. But Rick was over here cryin' about you too, so you both are on the same dysfunctional page. And damn ain't a bad word."

I grunted.

"Here, take a selfie with Nugget," I ordered, handing him my phone.

I turned away from them to put my purse on the island so that I could dig through it and find my car keys.

"Hey, 'Chonne?" Daryl said in an entirely too singsongy voice.

"Yeah?" I asked warily, looking over my shoulder at him.

He was holding my phone up.

"Who's Mike?"

* * *

 **Three days ago...**

 _I sat at my desk clicking my pen and staring out the window. Rick and I had been cordial the past few days, but neither of us was quite sure how to move past our very heated conversation. I struggled to understand Rick's blind devotion to Lori. It had been understandable the first few months after she left, but we were almost a year out. Was there not a statute of limitations on love in Rick's eyes? Would he spend years, decades, the rest of his life defending his ghost of a wife, waiting for her to reappear?_

 _I owned the part that I played in my frustration. I had forced Lori out of the Grimes' family picture, foolishly assuming that Gleggie, Daryl, Rick and I would always function as a well-oiled machine that took care of Carl. I didn't factor in any changes that could affect our performance, but Gleggie would undoubtedly want to start a family at some point, Daryl enjoyed the freedom of the road on his bike, Rick's impaired judgment was eventually going to be a liability, and Lori really could return at any given moment._

" _You keep frowning like that, your face will freeze that way," a deep voice said, interrupting my thoughts._ _"_ _And your face is much too lovely for that."_

 _I looked up to find Mike Anthony standing in my office. He'd only joined the firm a few months ago, but he was quickly becoming a standout environmental law attorney. I simultaneously fought an eye roll and a smile at how ridiculous he was._

" _If it isn't_ _Mike Anthony, the man with two first names," I said pleasantly, pushing aside my thoughts of Rick._

 _He laughed out loud, and I couldn't help but smile at him._

" _There's that smile_ _," he grinned at me._

" _How can I help you, Mike?" I asked. Since_ _I worked in contract law, our paths didn't cross at work._

" _Have dinner with me," he requested. "And before you shoot me down again, inflicting even more damage to my already fragile ego, keep in mind that it's just dinner, with a fellow attorney, on a Tuesday evening."_

 _I looked Mike up and down. I instinctively wanted to tell him no, but I definitely could use a distraction. Getting to know a fellow attorney on a Tuesday night seemed like a good distraction. Rick didn't leave for work until around 9:00pm, so I had more than enough time to spend time with Mike before getting to the house._

" _How about we start with drinks? Happy hour across the street?" I asked him._

" _Sounds delightful_ _," he said, grinning again. "I'll swing by your office to pick you up around 6?"_

" _I'll see you then," I agreed._

" _And there's that smile," he said breathily._

* * *

"Who's Mike?" Daryl asked again.

"A coworker," I answered cautiously.

Daryl stared at me.

"A friend," I amended. "A coworker friend."

"Oh yeah? Well your coworker friend just sent you a text letting you know he found your panties. And he sent a picture of the panties," Daryl said, sizing me up.

Daryl and I had known each other long enough for me to be only minimally mortified by this conversation. I was mostly just relieved that Mike had found my panties.

"So you're going through my phone now?" I combatively asked Daryl.

"Stop. You got the text when I was tryin' to take the picture that you asked for. And do you really want to get into a conversation about boundaries? I can call Rick. I'm sure he'd have plenty to say about that."

Rick and Daryl were notorious gossipers, so Daryl and I both knew he was going to call Rick regardless. He'd probably call Glenn too, although Glenn probably already knew about Mike through Maggie since I called her immediately after drinks with Mike turned into something more.

A small smirk found its way to Daryl's face before he handed me my phone. I knew what was coming.

"We're meeting him, 'Chonne."

"No, you're not," I said, taking my phone and heading for the front door.

Daryl let his silence speak for him.

"You're not," I said again as I opened the front door.

"Yes, Michonne, we are!" I heard Daryl shout after I closed the door behind me.


	5. The Future and the Past

**A/N: Still soaring from the "Say Yes" high, guys! :) What an amazing episode for Richonne! I wish this chapter was as awesome as that episode for our duo, but we're still not there yet. lol. Enjoy! And thanks for reading and commenting!**

* * *

 **5\. The Future and the Past**

Three glasses of wine. That was my limit. It was self-imposed, but it was my limit nonetheless. The two and a half glasses of Malbec I'd already savored had done a wonderful job of making the awkward silences and the awkward small talk tolerable.

I tried not to sigh as I looked at my almost empty glass.

Four glasses of wine. That was my new limit. I needed to flag down our waiter.

"I think you've had enough," Rick said quietly, intruding on my thoughts.

I looked up to find him staring at me with the glint of a smile in his eyes.

"I'm not drunk," I said, playfully narrowing my eyes at him. "Just-"

"Feelin' good," he finished. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You forget, I was there the last time those words came out your mouth," he smirked.

I laughed out loud, not at all caring that it was probably one of those slightly too loud, wine-induced bursts of laughter. Since the evening was not going well, I relished the lighthearted moment.

"Then you should remember that the particular incident you're referring to involved shots, not glasses of wine. Apples and oranges, my friend," I pointed out.

He smiled at the memory.

I smiled at him.

After the Jessie-Lori nonsense, it had taken a full week for Rick and I to clear the air. Rick was the one who extended the olive branch when he appeared in my bedroom doorway with a peace offering: a pair of his flannel pajama pants. I hated the disconnect between us, so I snatched that olive branch without a second thought.

But I knew our reconciliation essentially amounted to putting a band-aid over a gaping wound. Daryl's words of advice deeply resonated with me, and I suspected that Rick felt the same after he spoke with Daryl. We needed to reevaluate the roles we were playing in each other's lives, but we were both avoiding that evaluation.

Rick did agree only to mention Lori to me if she made plans to return or if he was asking me for a divorce attorney referral. The divorce attorney piece of it was my idea, which he didn't appreciate whatsoever. But I needed him to keep in mind that he had options in creating his own happiness.

I agreed to mind my business if Rick wanted a haircut.

Jessie was a non-factor who we decided wasn't worth any further conversation. She stopped calling Rick after we had our locker room chat, and, according to Rick, the extent of her interaction with him at Gymboree was a cordial nod here and there.

I overheard him on the phone one evening with either Daryl or Glenn gossiping about how Jessie was now fixated on Jerry, a new Gymboree teacher. I listened in as he babbled on and on about a peach cobbler controversy. Apparently, Jessie brought Jerry a peach cobbler that she claimed she made from scratch, but Rick and a few of the other parents were convinced that it was store-bought.

After listening in for another minute about how tacky it was to lie about homemade desserts, I decided I'd had enough of Rick's very animated but senseless conversation.

While Rick would probably never admit it to me, I smugly walked away from eavesdropping knowing that he knew I was right. Jessie Anderson was, in fact, a thirsty Gymboree ho.

"When's the last time we had a night like that, Rick?" I asked, leaning towards him as I rested my elbow on the table and my chin in my hand.

"A night of you gettin' us banned from a fine establishment because of how good you were feelin'?" he asked with a bright smile.

"Haha, Richard. Very funny. I mean a night of us getting dressed up and going out. No Nugget... no falling asleep before 9 o'clock...just the two of us having adult fun."

He picked up his fork and twirled it around in his hand as he thought about it.

"Mama Mia's with Glenn and Maggie. Daryl babysat Carl," he answered, pointing the fork at me.

I cringed.

"What?" he asked setting his fork down. "It's not dancin' on a table before being banned from a fine establishment, but wasn't it still a good time?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

Rick laughed.

"I'm sorry, Mich," he said with an insincere pout as he reached over and lightly tugged on a loose loc. "Please go on."

I gave him an exaggerated eye roll before I continued.

"That night at Mama Mia's was great! But that was months ago, we were home before 8pm, and we didn't exactly dress up," I told him.

"We took showers though," he said with a half shrug.

I laughed out loud for the second time that evening, but stopped once I realized Rick was serious.

"Is that our standard now? Showering?" I asked.

"I think it is," he chuckled. "It's Carl's world, we just live in it."

I sighed. I loved Nugget in the most indescribable way, but sometimes I longed for the days when we weren't chained to the cutest little baby in the world. That thought made me feel unbelievably guilty.

"I miss foreign movie night," I told Rick, hoping that missing something that had nothing to with Carl didn't make me a bad co-partner.

"Yeah, I do too," he said, smiling fondly.

Mike cleared his throat.

He'd excused himself to use the restroom a few minutes earlier, and I hadn't realized he'd returned. I moved away from Rick and sat upright in my chair.

"What's that about foreign films?" Mike asked, looking at me and then Rick.

I knew Rick wasn't going to respond, so I answered.

"Oh, nothing really. Rick and I just have a longstanding movie tradition. We were discussing how it's been too long since we last made a trip to the theater."

I took another sip of my wine.

The full story was that Rick's mom absolutely loved foreign movies, and when Rick, Daryl and I were kids, she would regularly take us to the theater to watch them. Even though we were too young to care about anything except eating hot, buttered popcorn and having sword fights with our Red Vines, she corralled the three of us at least one Saturday morning a month to watch a matinee.

When we hit our pre-teen years, Rick and Daryl dropped out of foreign movie Saturdays to do whatever it was that pre-teen boys liked to do without a mom or a female friend present. Without the boys, those Saturdays became a girls' day out for me and Rick's mom.

Rick didn't join us again until his mid-twenties, but once he was back on board he was dedicated to upholding our monthly tradition. The three of us normally headed to a coffeehouse or a restaurant after a film to discuss it in depth. Our conversations could stretch for hours.

After Rick's mom passed, he and I still found time to get together to watch a foreign movie when we could. Since Daryl never regained an interest in watching them and Lori never cared for subtitles, it was something special that Rick and I did together. But the surrogacy process, the pregnancy, and Carl's birth put an end to our movie nights, although I hoped we were just on a hiatus.

The thought of one day resuming the tradition with Carl had crossed my mind a few times.

"I had no idea you enjoyed foreign films, Michonne," Mike said. "There's a film fest in Atlanta next month. We should make plans to attend. Maybe make a weekend out of it?" he suggested.

"Sounds like something to consider," I said before taking another a sip of wine.

I'd read about the film fest a few days ago, but it was Rick who came to mind when I thought about purchasing tickets. I wasn't confident that either of us would be comfortable being away from Nugget for an entire weekend though, so I hadn't brought it up.

I could feel Mike staring at me, and I briefly wondered if he could sense my guilt over planning a trip without him. I looked at him, ready to apologize for my oversight, but his eyes were questioning whether he should try to engage with Rick again. I subtly nodded my head to encourage Mike to try.

Rick had rebuffed Mike's efforts all evening, so I doubted he would be receptive to this attempt.

"Rick, you and Michonne have known each other since you were six years old," he stated. "It must be quite extraordinary to have a friendship with someone that spans thirty years."

Rick stared at Mike and slowly blinked before responding. "It is."

I shot him a look telling him to stop being difficult, but he stared back at me with a resounding "no" written all over his face. And just like that, the awkwardness stemming from my boyfriend meeting my officially unofficial best friend returned to its rightful home at our table.

Mike, seemingly unfazed by Rick, continued to speak.

"My parents and I moved frequently when I was a child," he shared. "My father was a high-ranking officer in the military, so it was my birthright, in a sense, to become a well-seasoned traveler. I've seen most corners of the world, mastered multiple languages, and developed a rather distinguished palate. However, I never had the pleasure of making childhood friends. You both are lucky," he said reverently. "And Daryl as well?"

Rick remained silent until I kicked his foot under the table.

"And Daryl," he said.

And for the umpteenth time that night, Rick and Mike looked at each other with disdain. Rick expressed his candidly through his eyes, whereas Mike's was underlying, evident only by the way in which tapped his fingers on the table every so often.

Mike chuckled dryly. "Not one for small talk, Rick?"

"Not one for small talk, Mike," Rick replied.

I quietly sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

"Fair enough. I wanted to meet you for a reason, as I'm sure you're well aware, so perhaps we should move on," Mike said before taking a sip of his brandy. "You'll have to forgive me if I come across as obtuse, but help me to understand this arrangement that you and Michonne have."

Rick picked up his napkin, wiped his mouth, and then placed it over his mostly uneaten porterhouse steak and crab-stuffed lobster tail.

Mike had suggested that we meet at II Forks Chop House because it was the best steakhouse in town. If I needed tangible evidence that the evening wasn't going well, it was right there on Rick's plate. How I felt about Glenn's pizza is how Rick felt about a good steak, and the steak that was on Rick's plate was about as good as it got.

I was in no way surprised by the overall unpleasantness of the evening.

Rick's irritation with Mike started growing before he arrived at the restaurant, which was in large part due to Mike's last minute request to meet with only him. Mike did want to meet Daryl, Glenn and Maggie, but he felt it was more beneficial to meet with Rick first.

Mike and I had been dating for almost two months, and he was thoroughly perplexed by the nature of my relationship with the Grimes family. Because he fell into the cut-and-dry, black-or-white, logic trumps emotion camp, he wanted to dissect Rick's role in my life to determine how Rick and Carl's presence would impact our relationship in the long run.

I warned Mike that his request to meet only Rick wouldn't go over well, and it didn't. Gleggie handled his slight better than Daryl, but ultimately they were all put off.

"I'm sure Michonne has explained thangs to you already," Rick calmly responded.

"She has. And she's done so as eloquently and as passionately as any attorney who believes in a cause would," he said, reaching for my hand and bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss. "But I'm curious about... _things_ from your perspective."

I pulled my hand from Mike's grasp to reach for my glass of wine. I wanted to gulp the last of it, but I settled on a quick sip before glancing at Rick.

No head tilt. No eye squint.

For the most part, Rick had expressed indifference when it came to my new relationship. While Daryl relentlessly pushed to meet Mike, who he now referred to as "Panty Man", Rick didn't show interest one way or another.

"From the perspective of someone from the outside looking in, what you and Michonne are doing seems quite peculiar," Mike continued.

And there was the eye squint.

"The so-called co-partnering? The cohabitation? It's perpetuating a falsehood, is it not?" he asked.

"Come again?" Rick asked.

"How can I say this in way that you'd understand?" Mike questioned.

Rick's face quickly turned a shade of red.

"Mike!" I gasped, shocked that he would be so condescending.

"You're pretending to be something that you're not," Mike said to Rick.

"And what exactly are we pretendin' to be?" Rick asked.

"A family unit," Mike replied.

Rick's squint deepened.

"We are a family," he said.

"But you're not a family _unit_. Not husband, wife, and child. Not girlfriend, boyfriend, and child. You're two friends, one of whom has a child. Playing house only confuses that reality, especially considering that you do have a wife who you allege to love."

Rick turned his glare to me.

"I understand you went through some mental hardships," Mike continued, causing Rick to redirect his glare. "But why, almost a year later, do you find it acceptable for Michonne to be living under your roof, raising your child?"

And there was the head tilt.

I finished off my glass of wine.

"I've met this beautiful and amazing woman," Mike said. "But I need to know if it's possible for me to build something with her. So I'm asking you, is it possible?"

"That's between you and Michonne," Rick growled.

"But I'm asking you," Mike replied.

Rick remained silent, and I knew he was struggling to stay composed.

"And you know exactly what I'm asking," Mike said as Rick's phone started to vibrate.

"I don't think I do," Rick said, giving Mike a hard stare before grabbing his phone from the table and flipping it open.

"Rick, are you in love with Michonne?" Mike asked.

My jaw dropped.

Mike looked at me unapologetically.

"You live in his home, Michonne. You're raising his son with him," he explained. "I know why you're doing it, and I respect that. I adore that you could be so selfless. But I've considered things from his position, and I've come to two conclusions. He's either taking advantage of you or he's in love with you."

He turned his attention to Rick. "So which is it?"

By the way Rick snapped his phone shut, I knew that something was wrong.

"We need to go," he said to me as he stood up. "Now."

"Carl?" I whispered, trying not to panic.

"Hershel," he said soberly.

The relief that I felt was short-lived as my concern for Hershel set in.

"Emergency surgery," Rick said, standing up.

Hershel was Maggie's father who Rick, Daryl and I had grown to think of as our honorary father. I shot up from my chair, but the sudden movement combined with my three glasses of wine caused me to lose my balance. Both Mike and Rick reached out to support me, but it was Mike's assistance that I accepted.

"Are you ok?" he asked, putting his arm around my waist.

"We have to go," I told him.

"Of course. Let me just get the check, and then we can head to the hospital," he said.

I appreciated the offer, but I knew that what he suggested wasn't going to work. I looked over my shoulder at Rick.

"Give me a second?" I asked.

Rick rolled his eyes and started to walk away. "I'll call Daryl to find out somethin' more," he said.

"Rick," I called after him before he walked too far.

He slowly turned around and looked at me.

I silently told him that his mother raised him better than that.

I watched him fight a head tilt and another eye roll, but he walked back over to me and Mike. When he was close enough to Mike, he held out his hand.

"Mike," he grunted.

"Rick," Mike said cordially as he shook his hand.

Before letting go, Rick said, "And for the record, your beautiful and amazin' girlfriend is also extremely strong-willed and stubborn. So if she'd rather sit on the couch with me and my son watchin' her silly tv shows than go out with you, that has nuthin' to do with me. Take that up with Michonne."

He gave Mike one last hard stare before releasing his grip on his hand.

"Let me know if I need to rephrase that in a way you can understand," he added. "We need to go," he repeated to me before walking away.

Mike stared at the back of Rick's head as he walked out of the restaurant.

"It wasn't my intention to offend," he said to me.

"But you did, Mike," I told him. "And I can't have that. I won't."

"I'll apologize," he said quickly.

"Make sure that you do," I ordered.

I looked into Mike's eyes and I felt myself softening when I saw the depth of his feelings for me. After two months, I was far from being head over heels, but Mike was in deep.

"Walk me out?" I asked him.

When we stood outside, Mike pulled me close.

"I care about you, Michonne. Tremendously. I think we have the potential to evolve into something wondrous, but I don't trust-"

"Stop," I said, silencing him with a finger to his lips. "Rick isn't a problem. He's in love with his wife. He'll always be in love with his wife."

Mike looked at me skeptically.

"Trust me," I whispered.

He kissed my finger before removing it and then put my arms around his neck.

"We don't have thirty years of friendship, but I want to know you in different ways too," he said. "I'd love nothing more than to sit on a couch with you and watch silly tv shows, if that's what your heart desires."

I tried to imagine watching Pasión de los Cuerpos, my guilty pleasure telenovela, with Mike. I couldn't see myself having as much fun watching it with him as I did with Rick and Nugget, but I had to give Mike a chance. I wanted to give it to him.

"Let's set a couch date then," I said, smiling at him.

"And there's that smile. I was wondering if I'd get one of my own this evening," he whispered before leaning in and kissing me gently on my lips.

"I'm sorry about your friend. You're positive that I shouldn't accompany you to the hospital?" he asked.

"You haven't even met Maggie," I told him before separating myself from him."This isn't really a good time for introductions."

Mike look disappointed, but gave a nod of understanding.

I looked around the parking lot for Rick and saw him standing next to his truck and holding his phone to his ear.

"Perhaps I could just drop you off then?" Mike suggested.

"Mike," I sighed. "I'll call you later tonight."

He nodded once more, and then pulled me in for another hug. "I'll be waiting for your call."

* * *

Once Mike went back inside the restaurant to pay the bill, I walked over to Rick. He opened the passenger door of his truck after he saw me approaching.

"Ok, we're leavin' now," I heard him say into the phone. "Call me if anythang changes."

Once he hung up the phone, Rick spoke to me without looking at me. "Hershel's still in surgery. Tractor accident," he said as I climbed into the truck.

He reached for my hand and gave it quick squeeze before he shut the door.

"Rick," I said to him once he got in the driver's seat.

"Can we please not do this right now, Michonne?" he asked, still not looking at me.

"Later then," I said.

"Later," he agreed as he pulled out of the parking space.


	6. Now and Later

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up! Good news though... I broke up this chapter and the next because I thought it was too long, so the next chapter should be up in the next few weeks. (On a completely unrelated note, I still can't believe Jadis asked Michonne if she could lay with Rick after. UGH!). Anywho, Enjoy! Reviews are always welcome! :)**

* * *

 **6\. Now and Later**

Rick was driving like a mad man, trying his damnedest to cut the 45-minute drive time to the hospital in half. I didn't doubt his ability to do so. He'd been a speed demon all his life, and once he completed driving training at the Sheriff's Academy he drove as fast as he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Unconcerned by how he weaved in and out of traffic, I looked out the passenger window as one thought after another rushed through my mind.

 _Hershel... Maggie... Mike... Rick... Carl... Lori..._

 _The past... the present... my future..._

 _Lori... Carl... Rick..._

 _Maggie... Hershel..._

 _Mike... Rick..._

My thoughts collided into one another, competing for my attention and filling my head with too much noise. Frustrated by my inability to focus, I glanced at Rick with the hope that he would still my mind.

When I noticed the way his lower lip jutted out, I knew he was deep in thought himself.

We hadn't spoken since he pulled out of the restaurant's parking lot, but our silence was tension-free. Rick needed time to process meeting Mike, and I had no problem giving it to him.

But just because he wasn't ready to talk, didn't mean he couldn't help distract me from myself.

I turned towards him to study his body language and to pinpoint what thoughts were running through his mind. He wasn't tense from agitation, so I knew he wasn't thinking about Mike. He didn't have a faraway look, so I knew he wasn't thinking about Lori. He seemed to be cringing slightly, but that could mean-

"Stop, Michonne," Rick said quietly.

" _S_ top what?" I asked innocently.

For the first time since we'd left the restaurant, he directed his eyes to mine before looking back at the road in front of us.

"I know what you're doin' over there," he said as he maneuvered around an 18-wheeler.

"And what am I doing, Rick?" I asked.

He looked at me again and laughed before shaking his head.

"Really, Michonne?" he asked. "Am I really supposed to be buyin' the wide-eyed Bambi act?"

I shrugged, refusing to either confirm or deny that I had been trying to Bambi him.

He shook his head again.

"I'm not ready to talk about thangs yet, so stop tryin' to figure thangs out. Ok?" he asked, punctuating his request with a raised eyebrow stare.

"Ok," I agreed before sighing dramatically. "So bossy. And eyes back on the road, please."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbled, changing lanes and accelerating to pass slower vehicles.

"Your phone's been beepin'," he said once he was happy with our position in traffic. "You been gettin' Hershel updates from Gleggie?"

I'd received two text messages, but both were from Mike.

"I haven't heard from Glenn or Maggie yet," I told him honestly.

It didn't take Rick long to deduce who I received the messages from. I noticed a flicker of annoyance cross his face.

"That could be a good thang," he reasoned. "Not hearin' from Gleggie, I mean."

"Could be," I said hopefully.

My mind then flashed to the memory of Rick not answering or responding to countless calls and texts the day I went into labor.

"Two different situations, Michonne," Rick said softly, reaching over and squeezing my knee comfortingly.

He was right. They were two very different situations. Plus, if Rick kept up his driving pace, we would see Maggie and Glenn in less than 10 minutes.

"Stay out of my head, Rick Grimes, and I'll stay out of yours. Ok?" I asked teasingly.

"Ok," he said with a smile.

When he released his hold on my knee, I grabbed his hand. I craved a reassurance that I didn't want to voice.

"Hershel _will_ be ok," Rick said, interlocking his fingers with mine.

"He will," I said with more confidence than I felt.

"He will, Michonne," Rick said with conviction.

I looked down at our hands, watching as his thumb slowly strummed mine. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

His touch was so gentle, but it was powerful enough to set my mind at ease.

"Thank you," I whispered to him, slowly separating my hand from his and turning to look out the passenger window.

Rick and I quickly lost ourselves in our own thoughts and let the comfort of silence settle between us.

* * *

"Checkmate in two moves, 'Chonne," Daryl said in the cocky voice he always used when we played chess.

The only reason I didn't shoot him a dirty look was because I didn't care to see the matching cocky look on his face. I studied the chess board on my phone's screen and mentally calculated which move would burst his arrogance bubble.

"You can't avoid the inevitable, girl. Checkmate in two," he gloated.

Rick chuckled, and I rolled my eyes.

"Read your magazine, Grimes," I ordered without looking up.

We were doing what we could to pass the time in the waiting room until we received an update on Hershel. Rick was unable to join us in phone games because he refused to buy a modern phone. The only game that he was able to play on his archaic device was Snake, which he'd grown tired of playing hours ago.

Daryl and I openly pitied him for his technological shortcomings, but he refused to upgrade.

Glenn was snoring softly beside me, but before he fell asleep he filled us in on how Hershel ended up in emergency surgery. Apparently, Hershel started drinking heavily in the morning and continued drinking throughout the day. In his state of drunkenness, he decided that it was a good idea to start pulling bales of hay with his tractor. He lost control, drove the tractor through a fence, and clipped the side of his barn, causing the tractor to overturn and trap him beneath it.

It had taken emergency crews over an hour to free him before he was rushed to the emergency room.

My heart broke for the Greene family. Hershel and his wife Annette had welcomed me, Rick and Daryl into their family because of how we had welcomed Maggie and Glenn into ours. I fondly remembered the Sunday dinner when Hershel informed us that they would no longer invite us over for meals.

 _"Family eats together without the fuss of an invitation," Hershel proclaimed in his soft voice. "If you're hungry, you come over and eat. But keep in mind, family helps with the cleanup after eating. If you don't cook, you clear the table and wash the dishes," he said with a warm smile._

 _"Don't be too flattered," Maggie said, laughing. "Daddy just hates cookin' and cleanin'. You three get him one step closer to just eatin' and watchin' tv after."_

The youngest member of the Greene family was Maggie's sister Beth. She had a deceptively sweet baby face, but she was a very rough around the edges 28-year-old.

She happened to be at the farm at the time of the accident, but Glenn wasn't sure how much of Hershel's drinking or how much of the accident she witnessed. The only thing Glenn knew for certain was that Beth left the hospital without saying anything to anyone once he and Maggie arrived.

Daryl noticed her walking away from the hospital when he was driving to it, so he pulled over, unloaded Carl, and caught up to her on foot. He said she'd been crying and refused to return to the hospital, but she did agree to watch Carl at Daryl's house, which I appreciated. We'd been at the hospital for hours, so I could imagine how fussy Nugget would be right about now.

Rick, Daryl and I had not seen Maggie since we arrived. Glenn told us she was watching Hershel's surgery in an observation room with Annette, and while I knew she needed to see what was happening for her own peace of mind, I desperately wanted to see her for mine.

I yawned and stared at my phone. I was struggling to figure out the combination of moves that would block Daryl from checkmating.

It was difficult to concentrate in the hard plastic chair I was sitting in.

And with Glenn snoring directly in my ear.

And with the harsh, unnaturally white lights in the waiting room starting to burn my eyes.

Before I could voice my complaints, Maggie walked through the double doors of the waiting room. I nudged Glenn awake, and after I nodded in Maggie's direction he jumped up and ran over to her.

Rick, Daryl and I stood and collectively held our breaths as Gleggie walked over to us.

"He's gonna be ok," Maggie said, her voice breaking with emotion.

Glenn held onto her tightly, supporting her as the stress of the last 10 hours of her day finally took its toll. We gave them a moment before joining in. Rick was the first to embrace them, followed by Daryl. I completed the group hug by embracing everyone my arms could wrap around.

Hershel was going to be ok.

We slowly broke off the hug until we were all standing protectively around Maggie. I reached out to give her another hug.

"How are you?" I whispered into her ear.

"We're ok," she whispered into mine.

Maggie recently found out that she was pregnant, but she still had not shared the news with Glenn. She said she was waiting for the right moment to tell him, but I suspected there was hesitancy on her part because she feared what his reaction would be.

Although she and Glenn were in love, Maggie focused on the fact that they weren't married. Although they spent most of their time together, Maggie focused on the fact that they didn't live together. Although they were making plans for the upcoming year, Maggie focused on the fact that they had never discussed having a baby.

I pulled out of our hug and looked at her. The dark circles under her red eyes, which were swollen from hours of crying, made me hug her again.

"Hershel?" Glenn asked once Maggie and I separated.

"He's stable. Sedated," she told us. "When the tractor rolled over, one of Daddy's legs was pinned... broken in two places. They put in a rod and pins and God knows what else to save it... His..."

Maggie seemed to lose her train of thought as she scanned the waiting room.

"His recovery won't be easy," she said. "Lots of physical therapy. He won't..." She trailed off and turned to look at Glenn.

"Where's Bethy?" she asked him with wide eyes.

"She's at Daryl's with Carl," Glenn said calmly.

"I have... I... I need Beth," she said loudly, her face crumbling.

"Maggie, breathe," Glenn said, pulling her close. "We'll call her, but I need you to breathe first."

Once Maggie looked like she wasn't going to fall apart, he handed his phone to her. She gave him a small smile and then tiredly lumbered over to a row of seats.

"What can we do?" I asked Glenn.

"Right now?" he asked. "Go home."

Before I could protest, he looked at me, Rick, and Daryl and gave us a fatigued smile.

"You've all done so much just being here, and that means everything to Maggie, to the Greenes, to me," he said. "But it's close to 4 in the morning. Go home, guys. Get some rest. I've got Maggie."

I looked at Rick and Daryl and silently discussed if that's what we would do. We agreed that we would.

When we were saying our goodbyes to Glenn, Maggie's shoulders slumped forward and she started to sob loudly. As Glenn rushed to her side, Rick, Daryl and I left the waiting room.

I turned to Daryl while we waited for an elevator. "Do you know-" I started to ask.

"Already on it," he said in a gravelly voice. "Left a message with Bob Stookey. He's one of the best substance abuse counselors I know. He'll help Hershel if Hershel's willing to accept it."

"And I'll check with my contacts at the department to see if any charges are being filed against him," Rick added.

"If there are, I'll get in touch with Eugene Porter at the firm," I said. "He's a bit of an asshole, but he's good at what he does and he owes me. He'll represent Hershel if necessary."

"And make sure Beth is ok," Rick said to Daryl. "What she saw couldn't have been easy. She went through somethin' too."

"On it," Daryl said.

"And thank her again for watching Nugget," I told him.

"Yep," he replied.

Satisfied that we had a plan of action for the Greene family, I felt some of the day's stress start to release its hold on me. After we stepped onto the elevator and the doors closed, Rick's stomach let out a very loud, very long growl.

Daryl and I stared at him.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"You had an opportunity to eat, Rick," I reminded him.

He scoffed. "Lost my appetite."

"I would've lost my damn appetite too," Daryl unnecessarily added.

"Daryl, you weren't even there," I pointed out.

"Didn't need to be. I heard all about what happened," he said with an attitude. "And I can tell him to fuck off in five different languages in case he has a problem understandin' one of 'em."

I groaned and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

"Calm down, Daryl," I said.

"Panty Man sounds like a goddamn prick, Michonne!" he said, in no way calming down at all.

I was barely able to handle Panty Man rants on a regular, uneventful day, so I had absolutely no tolerance for listening to one at the moment.

"Panty M-" I said before stopping myself. " _Mike_ is not a prick."

Daryl stared at me as if he didn't understand the sentence that had just come out of my mouth.

"And if you think about it," I continued, "it's quite fortunate that he didn't invite you and Gleggie to dinner. If he had, Maggie would've been on the other side of town when Hershel had his accident. You wouldn't have been there to see Beth walking down the street."

Daryl continued to stare at me blankly.

I shook my head and looked at Rick.

"Should we all head to the cafeteria? Let's head to the cafeteria," I suggested after we stepped off the elevator.

I caught Rick and Daryl exchange a glance, and I narrowed my eyes at the two.

"What was that?" I asked them suspiciously.

"I'm headin' out," Daryl said, ignoring my question. "Call me when you want me to drop Carl off."

He gave Rick a half hug and a pat on the back and then gave me a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"He's a prick, Michonne. You know it," he grumbled, walking away from us. "Fucking Panty Man."

"Bye, D," I said with an exasperated sigh.

I looked at Rick.

"What?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. He knew I wanted to know what the look he shared with Daryl meant.

"C'mon," he said, placing his hand on my lower back and forcing me to walk. "Let's find the cafeteria. It's time for later."


	7. Every New Beginning

**A/N: This was a tough chapter to write, but I hope it came out OK. Enjoy! Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **7\. Every New Beginning Comes from Some Other Beginning's End**

"Say it, Rick," I demanded.

Everything about Rick– his eyes, his facial expression, and his body language, screamed that he wasn't going to say what I wanted to hear, but for the sake of our friendship I needed those words to come out of his mouth.

"Michonne," he said quietly.

"Say it!" I demanded more forcefully.

"I can't," he whispered.

 _I can't._

Those two little words had pierced my heart when Lori spoke them the day Carl was born. Those two little words had fueled my rage towards her for months after his birth.

And now those two little words were back, gliding weightlessly from Rick's lips as if they wouldn't hit me hard.

I struggled to catch my breath as I came to terms with what they meant coming from Rick. After all that we'd been through as friends, after all that we'd been through in the past two and half years—the surrogacy process, the pregnancy, Carl's birth, Lori's disappearing act, his depression, our co-partnering—the most he could give me was an _I can't._

In the next few days, I was certain that a profound sadness would seep in when I thought of this moment. But for now, I was giving in to my anger. All of it.

As that anger registered with Rick, he balked.

"I'm not the asshole here, Michonne."

I stood up slowly and looked down at him.

"Yes, Rick, you are," I calmly stated, letting my fury wrap itself around each word as I spoke. "You are the asshole."

* * *

 ** _Moments earlier..._**

"Maybe not the best idea," Rick said as he inspected a very soggy looking chicken salad sandwich.

The cafeteria grill didn't open until 6:30AM, so his food options were limited to prepackaged sandwiches, salads and fruit cups. Rick decided to throw caution to the wind and buy a chicken salad sandwich. I decided on a cup of coffee.

After learning that Hershel would be ok, the adrenaline that kept me awake for the past seven or eight hours had slowed its manic rush through my body. Coffee was my best line of defense against exhaustion in case it decided to make an appearance before Rick and I could talk.

Desperately in need of fresh air, we decided to sit in the hospital's outdoor dining area. Not surprisingly, we were the only two people using the area at such an early hour, but we more than appreciated the solitude.

"There is an up side to eating that sandwich," I said to Rick, who was sitting across from me at a small table.

He looked at me questioningly.

"We're exactly where we need to be once you become violently ill," I joked before sipping my coffee.

He stared at me with with an unamused look as a glob of filling fell from his sandwich and landed in a wet, mushy plop onto his napkin.

He sighed and put the sandwich down.

"I should've went with a fruit cup," he said.

"You should've went with the steak," I rebutted.

I tried not to laugh as he pouted.

"Well, Richard, maybe the next time someone is generous enough to pay for your meal at a top-notch restaurant, you'll eat it and be appreciative," I said. "Especially if it's a steak that's both seasoned and cooked to perfection."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbled, moving his sandwich to the side.

I imagined the expression Rick wore on his face would be the same one I'd see on Carl's face years from now after he was told to finish his homework before going outside to play. I smiled at the thought.

When I turned my attention back to Rick, I realized that he was staring at me.

"What?" I asked self-consciously.

"Oh, uh... it's nuthin'," he said. "It's just... you, uh... you looked... really... very nice tonight... at dinner I mean," Rick stammered. "I didn't get a chance to tell you."

"Thanks," I whispered, feeling slightly flustered.

I'd noticed how nice Rick looked too.

"So," I said after clearing my throat. "Daryl and his Panty Man rants are officially out of control, right?"

Rick sighed and looked at me blankly as I set my coffee down and reached for my purse.

"Really, Rick?" I asked. "You have no comment? Were you not just standing in the elevator with him?"

Rick rubbed the stubble on his face before answering.

"What do you want me to say, Michonne? You know how overprotective Daryl gets. You're the baby sister he never had."

"I'm 3 months older than him," I deadpanned.

"Yeah, I know. But he's never been a fan of your boyfriends," he replied. "Especially not one that texts a picture of your little red panties," he said, raising one eyebrow.

Of course Rick knew the color of those panties. Rick and Daryl gossiped too damn much.

I rolled my eyes.

Rick chuckled and said, "All I'm sayin' is that Daryl will probably never think anyone is good enough for you. He'll probably always have a problem with whoever you date. He always had a problem with Lori."

I bit my tongue to stop myself from commenting that everyone had a problem with Lori.

Rick was right though. Daryl had an issue with all of the men I'd casually dated in the past few years. He thought Zeke had too much of a dramatic flair, he thought Ty was overly sensitive, and then there was Abe.

Rick and I slowly smiled at each other.

"We all hated Abe," Rick said. "Even Lori hated Abe."

I bit my tongue to stop myself from commenting that Lori hated everyone.

"He made me laugh," I said with a shoulder shrug.

Rick scoffed. "But he was an idiot."

"He was an idiot," I agreed, unzipping the snack pouch of my purse. I was down to my last Big Kat bar and about half a roll of mints.

"Here," I said, rolling the mints across the table to Rick. "Have my mints."

He gave me a "I know you have a Big Kat in your purse" look.

I shot him a "You're not getting my last Big Kat" look in return.

"I know I'm not," he said with a smile. "You could've at least pretended to consider it though. But thank you."

"You're welcome," I said with a wink as he popped a mint into his mouth.

A comfortable silence started to settle between us, and while I normally appreciated those silences, I was anxious to start our talk.

"So," I said, rotating my coffee cup on the table.

"So," he repeated, sucking on a mint.

When it was apparent that Rick was going to allow the silence to settle, I lightly kicked his shoe.

"I thought it was time for later," I said to him.

"Is that your thang now?" he asked with a smirk. "Kickin' me under a table?"

"Rick," I groaned.

I didn't want a conversation about something inane to derail us from the reason we were out here. He exhaled slowly and looked away while he gathered his thoughts.

I couldn't help but to feel a small flurry of butterflies in my stomach. Dinner with Mike had been uncomfortable but essential. It had confirmed what Rick and I should have done months ago.

When I felt Rick's eyes on me, I sat back and braced myself for what undoubtedly would be his version of a Panty Man rant.

"I don't like him, Michonne," Rick predictably said.

"I gathered as much," I replied.

"I don't like his atttiude," he continued. "I don't like the thangs he said."

"Understandable," I replied.

"He's condescendin'. Needy. Possessive. I don't like him. At all."

I sighed. "Rick, you do realize that he could say the same things about you? You weren't exactly Mr. Personable," I told him.

"He started it," Rick retorted. "' _I can speak 12 languages. I say 'things' and not 'thangs.' I have a palate,'"_ he said with an eye roll. "He said we're not family, Michonne. As if you're not one of the most important people in my life," he grumbled.

"He said we weren't a family unit _,"_ I corrected him. _"_ And he's not wrong about that."

Rick's eyes widened in shock and then came dangerously close to squinting.

"Rick, what happens when Lori comes back?"

He ran his hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair.

"We'd work together. We'd figure it out," he said simply.

"That's not a plan," I said.

He stubbornly glared at me.

"And what happens if she never comes back?" I asked.

"We'd figure it out, Michonne," Rick said sharply.

"And that's still not a plan, Rick."

We stared at each other, our silence quickly moving from comfortable to tense.

"You about to tell me I'm takin' advantage of you?" he asked, crossing his arms defensively.

"Don't be ridiculous," I scoffed.

"But?" he asked.

"But..." I hesitated.

"But what?" he challenged.

"But I can't help but to feel like I'm acting as a seat warmer, Rick. That once she comes back..."

"That I'd forget about you and all that you've done for us?" he asked with a hurt expression.

"That you'd have what you've been waiting for since she left. That you'd have your real family, Rick. That your precious, do-no-wrong Lori would be back on her pedestal," I answered. "And where does that leave me?"

Rick's hurt expression quickly transformed into a sour one.

"Rick, do you really think that we'd all live under the same roof? Do you really think that she'd be ok with me being the one making decisions about Carl? Being the one to sing him to sleep when Row, Row, Row Your Boat doesn't work?" I asked.

"Unbelievable!" he said heatedly. "He's turnin' you against me? Just like that? After everythang?"

"Mike isn't turning me against you," I argued. " _I_ am telling you that I need to take a step back from you and Nugget. _I_ am telling you that what we're doing isn't working for me. Not anymore."

I could tell by the way he was staring at me that he knew there was more.

"What else are you tellin' me, Michonne?" he asked warily.

I took a quick breath.

"I'm telling you that I'm moving out," I said evenly.

Rick squinted at me.

"This is because of him," he grumbled. "Because of what he said."

"No," I said firmly. "This is because of me. Because of what I need to do for my own happiness."

The hurt expression resurfaced on his face.

"I don't make you happy? Carl doesn't make you happy?" he asked.

"Mike is a part of my happiness now too. He's not all of it, but he's a part of it. He and I can't build on that if things stay the way they are," I explained.

Rick leaned forward, frowning at me.

"He won't be welcome in my house," he snarled. "He won't be welcome around my son."

Rick's use of "my" echoed in my mind.

" _Your_ house? _Your_ son?" I questioned, feeling my frustration swelling. "As I recall, I played a big part in making _your_ house a home, in making sure _your_ son was taken care of. When you couldn't do it, when Lori wouldn't do it, I did!" I snapped.

"You know I don't mean it like that!" he snapped back.

I shook my head in exasperation and tried to breathe through my frustration.

"You know what? You're absolutely right, Rick," I said slowly. "That is your house. Carl is your son. And that's exactly why I need to move out."

Rick opened his mouth to speak and then closed it.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said, reaching for his hand.

"Really? Because you just said you were leavin', Michonne."

"I'll still be there for you, for Nugget," I told him. "I live less than 30 minutes away. You have a key to my condo. My number isn't changing."

Rick grunted.

"What's the problem here?" I asked, pulling away from him as my frustration continued to swell.

"No problem," he said icily.

"Okay then," I said, matching the ice in his voice. "Then tell me you understand why I'm leaving and that you support my decision. Tell me that you wish me and Mike the best. Tell me that you're happy for me."

He looked away.

"Say it, Rick," I demanded.

Everything about Rick– his eyes, his facial expression, and his body language, screamed that he wasn't going to say what I wanted to hear, but for the sake of our friendship I needed those words to come out of his mouth.

"Michonne," he said quietly.

"Say it!" I demanded more forcefully.

"I can't," he whispered.

 _I can't._

Those two little words had pierced my heart when Lori spoke them the day Carl was born. Those two little words had fueled my rage towards her for months after his birth.

And now those two little words were back, gliding weightlessly from Rick's lips as if they wouldn't hit me hard.

I struggled to catch my breath as I came to terms with what they meant coming from Rick. After all that we'd been through as friends, after all that we'd been through in the past two and half years—the surrogacy process, the pregnancy, Carl's birth, Lori's disappearing act, his depression, our co-partnering—the most he could give me was an _I can't._

In the next few days, I was certain that a profound sadness would seep in when I thought of this moment. But for now, I was giving in to my anger. All of it.

As that anger registered with Rick, he balked.

"I'm not the asshole here, Michonne."

I stood up slowly and looked down at him.

"Yes, Rick, you are," I calmly stated, letting my fury wrap itself around each word as I spoke. "You are the asshole."

"But he-"

"For the last time, this isn't about Mike! It's about us. You and me!" I shouted. "But you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Worry about what? About us?" he asked in alarm. He jumped out of his chair, put his hands on his hips, and tilted his head. "That's not fair, Michonne."

I shook my head in disbelief and walked past him, bumping him out of my way.

"Michonne!" he called out from behind me.

I stopped.

I hated that he probably thought I was stopping for him. I just needed to compose myself before a bad situation became worse. My shaky breathing and my fidgeting fingers told me that we had already crossed the threshold from bad to worse.

I whipped around to unleash a stream of anger-laced words on him, but I was completely unaware of how close behind me he was. I crashed into his chest, stumbled backwards, and fell, landing in a sitting position.

I made no attempt to get up.

"Are you ok?" Rick asked with concern, reaching out his hand to help me up.

I stared at that hand for a long minute before looking up into the blue eyes that had always been able to diffuse my anger.

"Do. Not. Touch. Me," I warned him.

"Michonne! Rick!" a voice yelled.

Rick and I both looked in the direction the voice was coming from and saw Glenn running towards us.

"Hey, guys," he panted. "Everything ok?"

Rick and I looked at one another. Everything was not ok.

"Help me up?" I asked Glenn, reaching out to him.

Rick placed his hands on his hips and mumbled something under his breath.

"Thanks, Glenn," I said once I was standing.

He must have felt what was radiating off of me and Rick because he suddenly seemed very uncomfortable.

"Uh, so I was just coming out to get some air, and I saw you two, and um... should I leave?" he asked.

"Yes," Rick said at the same time that I said "No."

Glenn looked at Rick, then at me, and then back at Rick.

"Guys? I don't know what to do here," he said nervously.

"I'm leaving," I said to Rick with finality.

I took one step and felt a twinge in my ankle that stopped me in my tracks. Glenn rushed to my side as I winced in pain, and though Rick tried to do the same, I stopped him with a look.

"I must have hurt my ankle when I fell," I muttered.

"It's a good thing we are where we are then," Glenn joked.

Neither Rick nor I responded.

"Yeah, ok," Glenn said awkwardly. "We should probably get that shoe off and then get you inside."

I nodded.

"Help me make it to that table over there?" I asked him.

Glenn held me around my waist and I put my arm around his shoulders. After two steps I realized it was going to be be a very slow-going and painful walk to the table.

"Watch out, Glenn," Rick said with authority.

Before Glenn could respond or I could protest, he lifted me into his arms.

"Can you get her shoe?" Rick asked.

"Of course," Glenn replied, looking at me apologetically while loosening my sandal strap. "I'll let the ER know they have a new patient on the way."

I sighed when he handed my sandal to me and then watched him run into the hospital, leaving me alone in Rick's arms. I begrudgingly put my arm around his shoulders, permitting him to carry me.

"I know, I know," Rick said wearily, walking towards the ER. "I'm not supposed to be touchin' you. But I wasn't gonna watch you hobble, Michonne."

I was still furious, but I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Rick," I said slowly.

He sighed, stopped walking, and looked down at me.

"Whether it's twisted, sprained, or broken, I'm moving out," I told him.

His face hardened before he looked away and continued walking.


	8. Deja Vu

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! My goal really is to update biweekly, but life has been throwing so many distractions my way. Patience is definitely going to be a virtue when reading this story. lol. But I hope you enjoy! See you in a couple weeks (fingers crossed). And thank you again for reading, reviewing, following, or favoriting! :)**

* * *

 **8\. Deja Vu**

After I filled out the patient paperwork, Glenn returned to the surgical waiting room to be with Maggie, leaving me and Rick alone. I glanced around the ER's waiting room and quickly remembered how much I despised this place.

I'd been to the Grady Memorial ER a total of three times when I was a teenager, but not because of any injury that I had suffered. The visits were because of injuries Daryl had suffered by the hands of either his brother Merle or their mother Earlene. Those ER visits always amounted to the same thing: waiting with someone in pain in a sea of other people waiting in pain. And the pain was never hidden. It was always on full display in some disturbing form of broken bones, bruises, lacerations, swelling, vomiting, moaning, crying, or blood.

Although this was my first time here as an adult and my first time being the one in pain, nothing about the ER experience seemed to have changed.

Thank goodness it was a slow morning for emergencies. If there had been more than the five people already waiting, I would have crawled out of the hospital, summoned an Uber, and self-diagnosed myself by way of Google.

"He's insane, Sherry!" a scraggly-looking man sitting a few seats away from me bellowed, holding a towel to the left side of his face. "Who threatens to burn someone's face off with a curling iron, and then actually tries to do it?!"

"I don't know, D," the woman next to him said in disbelief. "I didn't think-"

"Fishing, beer, pretzels. That's how today was supposed to go," he said, interrupting her.

She cradled the right side of his face, forcing him to look into her eyes.

"Don't give up on us," she said softly.

He shook free of her grasp without saying anything, but I could tell by the way he looked at her before he shook free that he wasn't giving up.

She must have felt me watching them because she looked at me and said, "Crazy ex."

"Insane psycho!" the man shouted.

I gave them a sympathetic smile.

Happy endings came in different forms, and I genuinely hoped that they got their fishing, beer and pretzels variation of it one day. But this was also part of why I hated the ER. A man whose face was burned off by a curling iron was sitting four seats away from me and shouting about a psycho.

I slowly turned away from them and moved closer to Rick, who was quietly seething next to me. He sat up straight with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched tight.

If we were on better terms, we would have silently gossiped about the couple next to us. If we were on better terms, he would have stepped away to call his department to find out any information about the insane curling iron psycho, and then he would have shared those details with me.

But we weren't on better terms. Sadly, the two of us not being on better terms was becoming our thing.

"You can leave now," I said dismissively. "I don't need you here anymore."

Other than clenching his jaw tighter, Rick did not respond to me.

I leaned closer to him and whispered, "Go home, Rick. Go to _your_ home, to be with _your_ son."

He took a deep breath, looked at me, and then looked away.

"No," he said stubbornly.

Rick had no idea how close he was to claiming the #1 spot on my Lori List. But in all honesty, I was relieved that he was staying. My phone had died at some point, so I couldn't call Mike—although I knew I wouldn't have called him if I could.

Being here with Rick was more comforting than being here with anyone else. I was too tired to deal with anything other than the familiar, even if the familiar was being an asshole of epic proportions.

Rick's strength is what got me through ER visits when we waited with Daryl all those years ago. Rick's strength is what grounded me when I was overcome with emotion because of the brutality that our friend endured. Rick's strength is what soothed me after I became physically sick by what I'd seen in the ER.

In case of emergency, Rick Grimes was my person.

I silently cussed out his profile before turning away from him.

"At least he only used my 1/2" barrel, D," I heard the woman say to the scraggly-looking man. "If he had used anything bigger, your face would be a lot worse."

I sighed. It was going to be another long, unpleasant ER wait.

After about 20 minutes of waiting, I could barely keep my eyes open. I gladly gave in to the sleep that would bring the seemingly neverending day to a close.

By the time my ankle was examined, my mind was committed to sleeping instead of fully processing anything that was happening. One moment Rick was waking me up so that I could move to an examination table, and the next moment I was being placed in a wheelchair and being pushed out of the hospital.

And then I heard Rick's voice.

"Michonne?" he whispered.

I wasn't sure where I was, but I felt safe and warm, and for whatever reason, I felt like I was floating.

I ignored Rick.

"Michonne," he whispered again. "I know you're awake."

I groaned and then struggled against the heaviness of my eyelids until I was able to open my eyes. I immediately squinted from the brightness assaulting my eyes.

"Hey," he whispered.

Rick's voice came from above me. When I looked up into his tired blue eyes, I realized that once again I was in his arms with my head resting on his shoulder.

"Hey," I whispered back.

"We're at your condo, ok?"

I nodded slowly and then closed my eyes, snuggling into his warmth.

He rested his chin on top of my head.

"Come on, sleepyhead," he said. "I need you to stay awake."

I groaned again before yawning and rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"I'm gonna put you down now," he told me once he held my attention again. "You sprained your ankle, so don't try to get up. Got it?"

I nodded.

He placed a quick kiss on top of my head before carefully placing me on the foot of my bed.

"Don't move," Rick warned before walking over to my bedroom window to close the curtains and block out most of the sunlight.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"A little after 8 in the mornin'," he said. Before I could ask my next question, he added, "It's Sunday."

I looked down at my ankle, which was wrapped in gauze.

"It's not that bad," he said softly. "Your robe's in the bathroom, right?"

Before I could say yes, he was already opening the bathroom door. He quickly returned with my purple silk robe. He knew I liked to wear it after particularly stressful days.

As much as I loved that robe, I couldn't remember the last time I'd worn it. It's not that I hadn't dealt with any trying days in the recent past, but it seemed as if the cure to my bad day blues came in the form of a smile from Nugget now.

"Let's get you out of that dress," Rick said.

"It's sprained?" I asked, looking back down at my ankle.

"It is," he replied, laying the robe on the bed.

He held out his hand to help me up. I looked at it, then looked up at him.

Rick looked apprehensive, which was understandable considering what I'd said to him after he'd offered to help me up hours ago. But I wasn't going to fight him right now. My tiredness and his familiarity were still winning out. I placed my hand in his.

"Use me as support," he instructed. "No weight on that foot.

Once I was standing, he held me in place by holding on to both sides of my waist.

"It's a light sprain," he explained. "If you follow doc's orders, you should be fully recovered within a week. Rest, ice, compression, elevation," he said. "And no heels."

I cringed.

"No heels," he repeated firmly. "Put your arms around my neck, Michonne."

I put my arms around his neck, and when I looked up at him a memory rushed into my mind...

* * *

Sadie Hawkins Dance, 1994

" _What is it, Rick?" I asked as we danced to All-4-One's I Swear._

 _My arms were around Rick's neck and his hands were loosely holding my waist. After dancing to Tootsee Roll, Insane in the Brain, and Whoomp There It Is, I was glad to be dancing to something slow so that we could catch our breaths._

" _Nuthin," he said, raising his eyes to mine before glancing back down._

 _My feelings were beyond hurt that he would rather look at the floor than look at me until I realized he was staring at my cleavage._

" _You look really pretty," he said, still looking down._

 _I tugged lightly on his curls._

 _"Me? Or my boobs?" I asked._

 _He looked up from my chest and turned red._

 _"Both?" he said with a shrug._

" _Perv," I said with a smile._

 _He laughed out loud and pulled me closer._

" _You look really nice," he whispered into my ear. "Your boobs come in second."_

 _It was my turn to laugh out loud and to hold him tighter._

" _Well," he said as one of his hands crept down my back, "maybe they come in third."_

" _Rick!" I squealed, but I didn't move his hand when it landed on my butt._

 _I liked that he was finally noticing me in a different way._

* * *

From the sixth grade through our freshman year of high school, Rick and I were each other's go-to dates for school dances. It made sense for us to go together because as best friends we were guaranteed to have a good time.

Daryl only attended school functions when he was forced to, so, until Lori entered the picture our sophomore year, school dances were another one of those Rick and Michonne things.

I smiled at the memory of the Sadie Hawkins dance—the last dance we attended together, and then looked at Rick again. His lips were moving, then they weren't, and then he was staring at me.

"Huh?" I asked.

"Up and off or pull it down?" he asked.

I was completely confused.

"What?"

"Your dress, Michonne... how should we get it off? Pull it up and off or pull it down?"

"Oh, um, up and off? I think? Probably? Yeah," I stammered.

"Are you sure?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "We can leave it on if you want. I just thought you'd be more comfortable with it off."

Rick was right. I would be more comfortable once I was out of this dress. And getting my dress off would be easier if I had his help.

When Rick was battling his depression, there were times when I had to undress him before giving him a bath. Because I was trying to help him, I never felt awkward about what I was doing. Rick was trying to help me now, so I didn't know why the idea of him taking off my dress was making me feel so anxious.

"It's fine," I said, talking more to myself than to him. "Up and off."

He nodded and then leaned into me so that he could reach the zipper on the back of my dress. I held my breath as his chest pressed into mine. When he tightened his grip on my waist with one hand and began to unzip my dress with the other, I closed my eyes.

The feel of his fingers slowly pulling the zipper down my back forced me to release the breath I was holding. The intimacy of the moment was dizzying.

Once my dress was unzipped, neither Rick nor I immediately moved away from one another. We stood together in our embrace breathing against one another until Rick finally took a step back and released his hold on me.

I opened my eyes.

Rick was looking at the bottom of my dress, which stopped right above my knees. He grabbed two handfuls of the dress and slowly pulled it up until it was bunched below my strapless bra.

"Sit," he said softly.

I released my hold on him and sat down on the bed.

"Arms up," he instructed.

I raised my arms and tried to ignore the way his knuckles rubbed along the sides of my body.

Once he pulled the dress off of me, I crossed my arms over my chest and crossed my legs. Rick looked only at the dress in his hands.

"I'll go hang this up," he mumbled before disappearing into my walk-in closet.

I was too flustered to say anything.

I looked at my robe draped across the bed and decided to put it on without Rick's assistance.

After a few minutes, Rick walked out of the closet. He kept his face neutral when he realized that I was already wearing my robe.

"Hey," he said casually.

"Hey," I said in return.

He held his hand out to help me up, which I readily accepted. Before I could stop him, he lifted me up into his arms and carried me to the head of my bed.

"I could've hopped, Rick," I told him.

"I know," he said. Although his exhaustion was apparent, he gave me a quick smile. "I already told you that I'm not gonna watch you hobble."

After he laid me down, I jumped a little when he reached across my body to grab a pillow.

"For your foot," he explained.

He then carefully lifted my leg and placed the pillow under my foot.

"You're gonna have to sleep in this position and try to keep that leg still," he said.

I nodded.

"Do you need anythang? A blanket? Excedrin? Water? Juice?"

"Just sleep," I said, feeling my body relax into my mattress.

He nodded.

"I'm gonna call Daryl and check on Carl," he told me.

"Rick?" I called out before he left my room.

He walked back to me and gently kissed my forehead. We looked into each other's eyes before he rested his forehead lightly against mine.

"Get some sleep," he whispered.

I nodded lazily, my eyes already closing.

I knew that there was a reason I should be upset with him, but I stopped searching for it when I heard the deep timbre of his voice coming from the living room.

"Yeah, I'm at Michonne's... Sprained ankle... Nah, I'm gonna stay... On the couch, Daryl... Yeah, yeah, yeah... How's Carl?..." He let out a hearty laugh that made me smile. "Give him a kiss for me and Michonne. And no chocolate puddin' for breakfast... Uh huh. I mean it, Daryl. No chocolate puddin'... Ok. See ya later."

* * *

When I woke up, it took a minute for my mind to register that I was in my bed, in my room, in my condo. I recognized immediately that the breathing next to me was coming from Rick, who was sleeping deeply.

I looked at the time on my digital clock, squinting at the glowing numbers.

9:46PM.

I rubbed my eyes and then started to stretch, but flexing my ankle was a painful reminder of everything that had happened... the uncomfortable dinner with Mike and Rick; Hershel's tractor accident; my argument with Rick; spraining my ankle.

"Shit!" I said, grimacing in pain.

Rick jerked awake.

"Are you ok?" he asked in a voice thick with sleep.

When I didn't answer, Rick sat up.

"How are you feelin', Michonne?" he asked with concern.

I truly did appreciate how Rick had taken care of me, but I was wide awake now. My tiredness and his familiarity were no longer clouding my judgment.

"Like I should call Mike," I said.

I instantly felt Rick's irritation, but my guilt mattered more to me. I was supposed to be building something with Mike. I should have found a way to call him when I was in the ER. I should have thought to call him once I was back at my condo. I should have told Rick to leave.

I turned on the lamp on my nightstand, and we both flinched at the light. Rick rubbed the bridge of his nose and sat up on his side of the bed, turning his back on me.

When he leaned down, reaching for his boots, I knew he was minutes away from leaving.

I felt my own irritation start to grow.

He wouldn't even look at me.

Without saying a word, he stood up and walked out of my room. I heard him going through my cabinets in the kitchen and then opening my refrigerator. A few minutes later, her walked into my room.

"Your crutches," he said, nodding to the crutches resting against the wall which were close enough for me to reach without assistance. "Water, Excedrin, discharge papers, your phone," he said, placing each of those items on the nightstand.

"That's all you have to say?" I asked.

He put his hands on his hips and finally looked at me.

We stared at each other for a full minute.

"If you feel like you should call Mike, then call Mike," he said.

I narrowed my eyes.

"That's all you have to say?" I repeated, wanting to hear him say that he supported my relationship with Mike.

Rick continued to stare at me.

"Then I'll contact you before I stop by to get my things," I told him.

He nodded, walked out of my room, and then walked out of my condo.

I rested my back against my headboard, refusing to feel the full sting of his departure. Rick was being selfish and unreasonable, that's all there was to it. I took a deep breath before grabbing my now fully-charged phone. I had a text message from Daryl, a text message from Maggie, and eight missed calls and five voicemails from Mike.

I looked at the side of the bed where Rick had slept, rolled my eyes, and called Mike.


	9. Moving Day

**A/N: Enjoy! Thanks as always for your feedback! :)**

* * *

 **9\. Moving Day**

A deep frown seemed to have cemented itself on Mike's face. He'd been standing in front of the mantle with his eyes locked on one particular photo for the past few minutes. I suspected that he was staring at the photo Glenn had taken of me, Carl, and Rick the day after Carl was born. If that was the case, Mike was the first person to have such a cold response to the photo.

I resisted a very strong urge to rub the bridge of my nose and continued securing my multi-colored cat statue in bubble wrap. The statue was one of the many items I'd brought from my condo months ago to make Rick's house seem more like home. It was now the last item I needed to pack before I could consider myself moved out.

It was hard to believe that just one week ago I'd told Rick that I was moving. I certainly hadn't planned to move out so suddenly, but his _I can't_ had expedited my departure. Fortunately, my ankle healed rather quickly. In addition to following the doctor's orders, I opted to work from home for the week. By week's end, I was as good as new.

Confident that my ankle wouldn't be an issue, I contacted Rick to discuss move-out plans. After exchanging a few brief and impersonal texts, we agreed on a Sunday move-out day.

We hadn't communicated since then.

Surprisingly, despite Mike's inability to meaningfully contribute to the moving process, he and I were on track to leave Rick's house before our noon deadline. I figured that a three-hour window was more than enough time for us to organize and remove my belongings, but after about half an hour of packing, I realized that Mike was the last person I should have asked to help me move.

He honestly believed that helping me move meant that I would hire movers who we would then supervise. When I explained to him that he and I were the movers, he gave me a "you expect me to _what?!_ " look that I didn't give much thought to at the time.

But Mike was clueless.

He didn't know how to assemble moving boxes. He didn't know how to properly wrap breakables. He didn't know how to group similar items together. I ended up tasking him with the least problematic jobs possible: bringing me whatever I asked for and carrying boxes to my car.

I carefully placed my cat statue in a packing box, somewhat amazed by how well it had held up over the past 15 years. I couldn't find a scratch, chip or nick on its beautiful body. I smiled when I remembered how poorly received the cat was when Rick and Daryl first saw it.

* * *

" _I missed you both so much!" I said excitedly to Rick and Daryl for what was probably the twentieth time._

 _I'd just returned from a semester-long graduate studies program in Rome, Italy, so I hadn't seen them in person for six months. As much as I enjoyed everything about my overseas experience, there was nothing like being home._

 _Rick and Daryl were my home._

 _I hadn't been able to stop smiling since they picked me up from the airport._

 _Instead of taking me to my apartment, they surprised me with a "Welcome Home, Don't Ever Leave Again!" party at Rick's parents' house. When the party started to die down, the three of us made our way to the backyard for privacy._

 _Daryl sat on the bottom step of the deck chain-smoking, while Rick and I sat close-by in foldout chairs cradling beers. The guys looked like different version_ _s of who t_ _hey were when I left. I stared openly at them, trying to soak in all of their changes._

 _Daryl's hair had grown longer. It was now touching his shoulders in the back and practically covering his eyes in the front. Although he still wore saggy, ripped j_ _eans, his sleeveless plaid shirt had been replaced by a plain white tshirt and a motorcycle vest._

 _Daryl didn't get animated about very many things, so when he told me joined a motorcycle club it was obvious how much it meant to him by the way he spoke about it._

 _He had also become a tattoo enthusiast while I was away. His entire back was covered by a tattoo of a phoenix rising from the ashes. The tattoo was impressive, but I loved the simple one on his upper arm even more. It was an infinity sign that had three birds and the word "family" incorporated into it._

 _Whereas Daryl's look had become more rebellious, Rick's look had moved to the more conservative end of the spectrum. During our undergraduate years, he decided to grow a mustache that everyone called a pornstache. He kept that thing for years, but ended up shaving it off about a month after I left for Rome. The Sheriff's Academy he enrolled in required recruits to have a close-cropped haircut, so, sadly, his curls were gone too._

" _Stop starin'," Daryl said before taking a drag on his cigarette._

" _I have six months worth of staring to catch up on, so no," I told him._

 _I laughed when Daryl stuck his tongue out at me._

" _I wish you could've visited while I was over there," I said to them._

" _5,000 miles is a long way to travel, 'Chonne," Daryl said, leaning back against the steps and stretching out his legs._

" _5,142 miles to be exact," Rick specified._

" _And expensive as hell," Daryl grumbled._ _"_ _But you know w_ _e woulda if we coulda."_

" _I know," I said with a smile._

 _I thought about all the fun we would have had roaming the streets of Rome._

 _I thought about all the fun we were going to have now that we were together again._

 _And then the only sound that could make the smile fall from my face assaulted my ears._

" _Rick!" a shrill voice shouted from inside the house._

" _We're outside, Lori!" Rick shouted back._

 _We watched as Lori exited the house and made her way to Rick._

" _Hi, guys,_ _" Lori said as she passed Daryl on the stairs and headed straight for Rick's lap._

 _Daryl and I both remained silent, not that Lori noticed. She had already turned her attention to Rick and was giggling as he nuzzled her neck._

" _Sorry, I'm late," she said to him. "I had to beg Mr. Horvath to let me leave early."_

 _Rick rubbed her thigh and tried to discreetly nod his head in my direction._

" _Oh, hey, Michonne," she said as if she just realized I was sitting there. "W_ _elcome back."_

" _Thanks, Lori," I replied as politely as possible._

 _She gave me an empty smile that I didn't care to return._ _Instead, I finished off my beer._

" _Mrs. Grimes showed me that cat statue of yours on my way in," Lori said after I set my empty bottle down. "You got that from Venice?"_

" _From Rome actually," I said, looking at Rick._

" _You know Michonne was in Rome, Lori. Remember?" he asked her._

" _That's what I meant," she pouted before kissing him on the tip of his nose._

 _Daryl snorted. "That thing is ugly as balls."_

" _I'll have you know that a very talented street artist named Fabrizio made that cat for me. Piece by piece," I said proudly._

" _Fabrizio?" Daryl repeated as if the name tasted rancid. "Sounds like a jackass."_

 _Rick laughed out loud._

" _And why exactly is that_ _?" I asked._

" _Because he makes ugly ass cats so that he can get laid," Daryl said, lighting up a new cigarette._

" _Fabrizio got laid well before he gave me the cat, thank you very much," I said with a wink._

 _Daryl rolled his eyes and Rick choked on his beer._

" _Jesus, Michonne," Lori said as she patted Rick's back. "You were there for educational purposes, not..."_

" _Not what, Lori?" I asked, silently daring her to finish her statement._

" _Not indiscretions with strangers you met on the street," she said judgmentally._

" _It's a good thing I only indiscressed with one stranger then," I replied sarcastically._

" _That's_ _not funny. You were there to learn. A lot of people wanted that opportunity, but you got it," she whined. "You were there representin' all of us as Georgians, as Americans. So maybe a little decorum was called for, don't you think?"_

" _Lori," Rick groaned. "That's enough."_

 _I stood up and stared at Lori._

 _Rick, who knew how this conversation was about to end, tried to derail me._

 _"Michonne, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked._

 _I ignored him._

 _"Lori, fu-" I started to say._

" _Michonne!" Rick interjected. "I need to talk to you. Alone. Now. Please?"_

" _But, Rick," Lori whined as he jumped up, forcing her out of his lap._

" _I'll just be a minute," he said to her, kissing her quickly on the lips._

 _I watched as Lori whispered something in his ear and then ran her hand through his curl-free hair._

 _And that's when I saw it. Left hand. Third finger._

 _I looked at Daryl to confirm that I wasn't seeing things. When his eye roll confirmed that I wasn't, I turned and walked away in a stupefied_ _state._

" _You don't wanna leave, do you?" Rick asked after he found me leaning against his car with my arms crossed._

 _I looked at him but didn't answer his question._

 _"Are you at least gonna say goodbye to my folks?"_

 _I didn't answer that question either. His_ _parents had invited me over for Sunday night dinner, so I would see them then._

" _Hey," he whispered, lightly pulling on my arms to uncross them. "Don't go. You know Lori didn't really mean anythang by that. She's jealous. You're doin' the thangs she-"_

" _When were you planning on telling me?" I interrupted._

 _He stopped pulling on my arms and looked guilty._

" _When, Rick?"_

" _I tried," he said, dropping his hands from my arms and taking a step back. "But you were always busy. With school. With your boyfriend."_

 _There was some truth to that. School and Fabrizio occupied a significant amount of my time, but I wasn't unreachable._

" _Don't do that. Don't put this on me. You made the biggest decision of your life, and you didn't tell me. Why?" I demanded to know._

 _He sighed and leaned against the car too._ _When he didn't give me an answer I started to walk away._

" _Wait, wait, wait," he said, pushing himself off the car and grabbing my wrist._

 _He stood in front of me and waited until I looked up at him._

" _The truth is..." he began. "The truth is,_ _I didn't want you to talk me out of it, Michonne. You could've._ _But I_ _didn't want to analyze and then over-analyze it. I just wanted to go with a feelin'," he said earnestly._

 _Rick knew me well. I absolutely, positively would have talked him out of proposing to Lori. I probably still could._

" _But, Rick," I said. "D_ _on't you think-"_

 _"I'm goin' with the feelin'," he said with finality._

 _I looked up at the sky to stop myself from crying or screaming. Rick was a 'til death do us part kind of guy. Lori was going to be a permanent fixture in my life._

" _You know that there's no set blueprint, right?" I asked, looking at him again. "You don't have to have the career, the wife, the 2.5 kids by 25."_

" _I know, Michonne," he said._

" _If she's pressuring you into this—"_

" _She's not," he stated firmly._

 _I studied him closely, looking for signs of a lie._

" _She's not," he repeated._

 _He wrapped his hand around mine and tugged on it._

 _"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry that this is how you found out. Today was supposed to be about you."_

 _Although I was juggling hurt feelings, disappointment, and frustration, I was mostly just worried that he was making a terrible life-changing decision. But, ultimately, it was his life._

 _I slowly rolled my eyes, which Rick took as his his cue to pull me in for a hug._

" _Not so fast," I said, pushing him away. "This offense is going to cost you."_

 _He groaned and put his hands on his hips._

 _"Cost me what?" he asked._

" _Three Big Kats a week for the rest of the year," I said._

" _One," he countered._

" _Three."_

" _Two," he bargained._

" _Three, Rick."_

" _Fine," he huffed. "What else do you want?"_

" _I want you to introduce me to Shane," I said with a smile._

 _He looked at me blankly before asking, "Shane who?"_

" _Shane Walsh. Your training partner at the Academy. That Shane."_

" _What about Focaccia?" he questioned._

" _Fa-bri-zi-o was fun for Rome, but I'm home now," I said with a shrug._

 _His blank stare returned._

" _Those are my terms for forgiveness, Rick. Non-negotiable."_

" _Fine," he said as he shook his head and pulled me in for a hug. "You and your lack of decorum_ _."_

 _I smiled against his chest._

 _"_ _If she ever mentions my decorum again," I warned him._

 _It was one thing for Rick or Daryl to joke about or discuss my decorum, but Lori and I would never be on that level._

" _I'll handle it," he promised._

" _You better," I said._

" _I'm gettin' married, Michonne!" he said excitedly._

" _You're getting married, Rick," I said softly._

* * *

I looked back at Mike who was still staring at the same photo. I empathized with him to an extent. I knew it had to be difficult for him to see firsthand how deeply embedded I was in Rick and Carl's lives, but I also knew how elated he was that I was finally moving out.

When I told him my plans to move, he only cared about when, not the why. I should have been more forthcoming about certain things, like the fact that Rick and I weren't on speaking terms or the fact that Rick stayed the night at my condo after I was discharged from the hospital, but Mike didn't ask for details, so I didn't provide any.

I walked over to him and smiled when I saw which photo had captured his attention.

"That was taken the day after Carl was born," I told him.

It truly was a beautiful photo. Rick and I were lying on our sides and facing each other in my hospital bed with Nugget lying between us. Rick's curls shot out wildly all over his head, and his eyes were a little swollen from the tears he had shed over Lori. My hair was in a messy bun, and the double chin I'd developed during the pregnancy was on full display. Our eyes were glued to Carl, completely enamored with his tiny little swaddled body.

Glenn printed the photo in black and white and then framed it before gifting it to us. I made a mental note to ask him for a copy of my own.

Mike stared at the photo a few seconds longer before shifting his gaze to the other photos on the mantle. I took a seat in Rick's recliner.

"This is Lori?" Mike asked.

"That would be her," I said dryly, not even bothering to look at who he was pointing out.

Mike picked up the photo to study it.

"This picture looks fairly recent," he commented. "Maybe a few years old? Is this how she looked before she disappeared?"

"She didn't disappear, Mike. She left. She hung up on me when I was giving birth to Nugget. She got in her car and drove away," I said bitterly.

"But this is how she looked?" he asked, putting the photo back in its place. "Thin? Long brown hair? Bangs?"

"That would be Lori. Same old, same old since high school," I replied.

"And that's when you met her? High school?" he asking, turning to look at me.

"Sophomore year," I answered.

"She moved here your sophomore year or she moved here prior to that and you only met her sophomore year?" he asked.

"She moved here with her family our sophomore year," I said.

"From where?" he asked.

"Florida," I told him.

"Which city?"

I cocked my head and looked at Mike. "What's with all the questions about Lori?"

"Curiosity," he said simply.

He turned back towards the mantle to look at more photos.

"You almost forget that he's a cop," he said, looking at a photo of Rick in his uniform.

"Sheriff's deputy," I said, correcting him. "For almost twenty years."

"More like a desk clerk now," he mumbled to himself.

"But still a sheriff's deputy," I said defensively.

"Regardless, he has the resources and he has the connections, yet he hasn't been able to locate his wife?" he asked.

"Lori doesn't want to be found," I told him.

"Or perhaps he doesn't want to find her," he mused.

"Of course he wants to find her," I said, started to feel irritated by all of this talk about Lori. "Rick believes Lori is his one true love."

A frown was slowly making its way back to Mike's face.

"And that vexes you?" he asked.

"Yes, Mike, it does," I said without further explanation.

"In our profession, we have resources too. You've never tried to locate her yourself? To reunite him with the love of his life?" he asked.

"No," I replied.

"No?" he questioned.

"No," I repeated.

"Did she-"

"Enough," I said sharply, getting up from the recliner. "Enough about Lori Grimes."

"My apologies," Mike said, quickly walking over to me. "It was not my intent to upset you."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose.

"I'm not upset, Mike. I'm just ready to go."

I looked around the room one last time.

"Will you take these boxes to my car please? I need to check one more room."

Mike looked at the two boxes and tried not to scowl. "Of course," he said.

After he carried the first box out of the room, I reminded myself that everyone had different strengths and weaknesses. Mike's strength was that he was more of the delegating type than the doing type.

I was used to the men in my life being do-ers, so Mike's temperament would be an adjustment. But I could adjust.

When I stepped into my old bedroom, a wave of sadness crashed into me. Except for the lingering smell of my vanilla-scented candles, there was nothing to indicate that this had been my room for over a year.

I walked into the closet and picked up the three pairs of pajama bottoms that I'd left in there and then walked to Rick's room to return them. When I pulled open his top dresser drawer, my eyes were drawn to a white envelope resting on top of his socks. The envelope was blank, so there was nothing to hint at what was inside the envelope.

I placed his pajama bottoms in the drawer and closed it.

The respectful and responsible thing to do would be to walk away. But there was a chance that this was it... the letter that Lori had written the day she left.

Realistically, it didn't matter what words she'd strung together that day, but I couldn't stop myself from invading Rick's privacy. I opened the drawer again, picked up the envelope, and pulled out the letter.

"Atlanta Film Fest," I said out loud, reading the header.

I skimmed the rest of the letter.

 _Dear, Mr. Grimes:_

 _Thank you for your recent purchase of the Atlanta Film Fest VIP package..._ _Enjoy your VIP privileges... two all-access badges... bypass lines... reserved seating... a Cocktail Meet & Greet with select directors... Please contact the Sheraton Atlanta Hotel for your suite accommodations..._

The letter was dated well over a month ago.

I carefully placed it back in the envelope and placed the envelope back in the drawer, but I was fuming.

Rick and I were in a good place over a month ago, but he never mentioned purchasing a VIP package to the film fest. He never even mentioned an interest in attending the film fest, at least not with me.

I slammed the drawer shut and left his room.

If not for passing by Nugget's nursery, I would have walked right out of the house.

Throughout the day, I glossed over how deeply upsetting it was to be moving out. It was impossible for me to gloss over my feelings now that I was standing in the doorway of Nugget's room. I'd spent almost every day of Carl's life with him, but almost every day was about to dwindle down to something less.

His cries, his screams, his smiles, his giggles, his gas, his gibberish—they were all sounds that had become a part of my daily existence. I had no idea what would replace those marvelous sounds.

I didn't want anything to replace them.

An ache grew in my chest when I thought about his firsts that I was going to miss out on. There was something so exhilarating about being there when he hit a milestone or experienced something new. Rick and I would dance around and cheer like maniacs when Nugget accomplished anything, and then Nugget would join in on our celebration, pumping his arms and legs excitedly and gurgling happily.

I was going to miss everything about my little Nugget.

I'd miss singing Cyndi Lauper songs to him when I rocked him to sleep.

I'd miss reading comic books to him.

I'd miss coordinating his outfit with mine or Rick's when we out.

I'd miss watching his face light up when he ate applesauce or chocolate pudding.

I'd miss watching his face scrunch up when we tried to feed him bananas.

I'd miss his slobbery kisses.

I'd miss his smell.

I'd miss tickling his feet or his tummy.

I'd miss soothing him when we was upset and wailing.

I'd miss sneaking kisses when he was asleep.

I'd miss looking into his blue eyes.

I'd miss telling him I loved him every single day.

I'd miss how he made me feel when he was in my arms.

I quickly wiped my eyes when I heard Mike's footsteps approaching.

"You know, this is quite a nice house, Michonne," he said, stopping behind me. "The house and the neighborhood are much nicer than I expected."

"Did you think he lived in a van down by the river, Mike?" I asked jokingly, trying to compose myself.

"Maybe not to that extreme, but based on the way he presented himself, yes- I thought he was rather poor," he stated.

"Come again?" I asked, somewhat astounded by the comment.

"Michonne, he wore jeans, scuffed boots, and a buttoned down _cotton_ shirt to a five-star restaurant. I won't apologize for thinking he was poor."

"You're such a snob, Mike Anthony."

"I am, and you'll learn to love that about me," he said unapologetically, wrapping his arms around my waist. "We should get a couples' massage tonight. All of this manual labor has me tense."

I sighed. I knew he wasn't joking.

He let go of my waist and moved past me to walk into Carl's nursery.

"Do you want one of your own?" he asked me as he looked around.

"One of my own what?"

"Your own child, Michonne."

Mike's words bounced around my mind. _One of your own._

Everyone seemed determined to remind me that Carl wasn't mine. And he wasn't. I knew that.

"Michonne?" Mike asked, walking back over to me.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "Carl's been such a handful. I haven't had time to stop and think about it."

"But it is something you will think about? At some point?" he asked hopefully.

"At some point," I said, taking his hand and leading him out of the room.

When I locked the front door to Rick's house, I held on to the doorknob and took a breath. Although I didn't expect it to happen like this, I knew this day would come. I'd just always pictured Rick by my side on moving day.

"Are you ready?" Mike asked, wrapping his arm around me.

"I'm ready," I whispered as we walked to my car.


	10. Hey

**A/N: I know, I know, I know… it's been a few months since the last update. The good news is that I'm on vacation this week (yay!), so I'll be able to focus on the next chapter and get that uploaded much sooner. Enjoy! And as always, I love your feedback!**

 **P.S. Can you believe we're down to less than a month before s8? CAN. NOT. WAIT!**

* * *

 **10\. Hey**

I mindlessly drummed my fingers on my desk as I stared out my office window. The sun was shining brightly and the sky was a never ending sea of blue, but the beauty of the day was lost on me. It had been five days since I'd moved out of Rick's house, and while I still went through the necessary motions to function throughout each day, I felt like the walking dead.

I hadn't held Nugget in over a week. Rick and I still weren't speaking. I'd been avoiding Gleggie and Daryl.

Truth be told, my sense of normalcy had been uprooted, and I was struggling to find my footing on the foundation of my new normal—a new normal that didn't include Grimes-infused routines.

My weekday morning routine now started at 8AM, but for the past five months or so it had started two hours earlier. One of the first things I used to do after waking up was check on Nugget. He'd become such a sound sleeper that he rarely woke up before I did, so I loved taking a peek at his peaceful little face while he slept. After my heart was thoroughly warmed by the sight of him, I'd start brewing my hazelnut vanilla coffee, and then iron my clothes before taking a shower.

I'd wake Nugget up around seven and spend time cuddling him before giving him a bath. His breakfast followed his bath time, and once his belly was full and he was happily gurgling away, I'd make breakfast for myself and Rick, who normally walked through the front door by 7:45.

Rick would greet me with a hug and take Nugget from me for cuddles before we sat down to eat together. At times, Rick would be too tired from work to chat with me. At times, I'd be too cranky from spending a long night with a fussy Nugget to chat with him. Other times, we'd talk about whatever serious or silly thing crossed our minds. We once debated whether sporks should permanently replace all of the forks and spoons in the house. They would not, much to Rick's disappointment.

After we ate breakfast, Rick would take a quick shower and I'd wash the breakfast dishes. Nugget would keep me company until Rick was out of the shower. And by 8:45, I was heading off to work.

I always gave Nugget a kiss goodbye and Rick a low five on my way out.

Our evening routine worked similarly. After my work day ended, I'd normally make it to Rick's by 6PM. Rick and Nugget almost always greeted me at the front door unless Rick was feeling playful and they "hid" from me. It never took me long to find them because Rick hid in the most obvious places. When I did find them, I was always rewarded with the brightest smiles and the most infectious giggles from Nugget, who was as happy to see me as I was to see him.

I would change out of my work clothes into something more comfortable and then enjoy evening cuddling with Nugget while Rick cooked or warmed up dinner. When we were done eating, Rick would wash dishes and then give Nugget a bath. I spent that time unwinding from my day, usually by plopping on the couch to read a new comic book or by calling or texting Maggie.

Once bath time was over, Rick would bring a fresh and clean Nugget to me so that I could read a bedtime story to him. Rick would sit next to us with his legs stretched out on the coffee table, watching his son's reactions as I read about some make-believe world. Although the story was meant to put Nugget to sleep, the sound of my voice would often put Rick to sleep too. I'd let him snooze for about an hour before waking him up to get ready for his night shift.

He'd leave for work around 9PM, making sure to give his sleeping son a gentle kiss and to give me a kiss on my forehead on his way out.

I adored those routines. I desperately missed everything about them.

"Get it together," I whispered to myself, sniffling and wiping away a stray tear.

I grabbed a case folder sitting on my desk and started reading through it when my desk phone rang. Only a select few had my direct work number, and of that select few, only one person used it to call me regularly before he went silent on me.

I slowly exhaled before answering the phone.

"Michonne speaking," I answered in my no-nonsense work voice.

"Michonne, uh... hey," the voice on the other end said anxiously.

I couldn't help but to smile.

"Hi, Glenn," I said warmly.

After making myself unavailable to Gleggie and Daryl all week, I was genuinely delighted to hear from Glenn. I hadn't meant to shut them out, but I wasn't ready to articulate how broken I felt without Rick and Nugget.

With Nugget's first birthday only two days away, I was going to have to say something sooner rather than later. Rick apparently had not said anything to them either, and I had no idea if or when he planned on saying something.

Glenn cleared his throat before speaking again.

"Hey," he repeated.

I waited for him to continue. When he didn't, I knew that something was wrong. Glenn and Maggie were the talkers in our family, so if words weren't flowing freely, there was a problem.

"Glenn?"

"Yeah, so... um… well," he sputtered.

"Is it Hershel?" I whispered, gripping the receiver.

"No! No—Hershel's still recovering," he said before clearing his throat once more. "It's just that... well..."

"What is it, Glenn?" I asked, wondering what had him so tongue-tied.

"It's just that I know," he said. "Michonne, I know."

My jaw dropped.

Did Glenn finally know that Maggie was pregnant? That he was going to be a father? He didn't sound elated at all. Was the idea of fatherhood-

"I know you moved out of Rick's," he said, cutting off my thoughts.

I sat back in my chair and let out a defeated breath. If Glenn knew, then Maggie and Daryl knew too. If Glenn was upset, then Maggie and Daryl were upset too.

This wasn't good.

But, if I had to be confronted by one of them, it was best that Glenn was the one doing the confronting. When Daryl was upset, he tended to take things to a 10. When Maggie was upset, she tended to go off the charts completely. Glenn was the most level-headed and reasonable of the three. I could talk this through with him in a calm and rational way.

"What the shit, Michonne!" Daryl shouted.

 _Shit._

"You should have said somethin'!" Maggie shouted.

 _Shit!_

I rubbed the bridge of my nose and cringed as all three started talking to me at once. I decided in that moment that three-way calling was the worst technological advancement to plague mankind.

When I heard a knock on my open door, I looked up to see Mika, my administrative assistant, standing in the doorway.

"Is everything ok?" she mouthed as she stepped into my office.

She looked genuinely concerned, but I could also see the anxiety on her face that I knew had nothing to do with me.

I glanced at the clock. 1:17PM.

I immediately felt terrible for delaying the start of her weekend.

One of the things I negotiated before I accepted my role at the firm was a work week that ended at 1PM on Fridays, which was to apply to my staff as well. I eventually planned to eliminate Mondays and Fridays from my work week altogether, but that would take a little more ladder climbing.

As it was, our day should have ended 17 minutes ago.

Unlike most 20-something year olds, Mika's Fridays were dedicated to her sister Lizzie once the work week ended. Lizzie suffered from severe emotional problems and lived in a group home outside of Atlanta, which was the closest facility Mika could find that was equipped to treat her.

Mika was normally in her car and headed to Atlanta by 1:05.

I pushed the mute button on my phone and held the receiver against my shoulder, although I could still clearly hear Maggie's high-pitched voice.

"Everything's fine," I told Mika.

She looked at me disbelievingly.

"Seriously. There's nothing for you to worry about," I said. "Go on and get out of here. I'm sorry for holding you up."

She still looked like she didn't quite believe that everything was fine, but she was also relieved that she was able to leave.

"Thanks, Miss Danvers! Give Carl a big hug and kiss for me on Sunday!"

I smiled as she all but ran out of my office, and then I rubbed the bridge of my nose again.

From what I'd been able to piece together from their ranting, Daryl found out that I'd moved out after he stopped by Rick's house earlier this morning. Rick wasn't home, but since Daryl had a key he let himself in. When he noticed that some of my things were missing, he checked my bedroom and realized that I'd moved out.

Naturally, Daryl called Glenn, who then called Maggie, who then insisted that the three of them conference call me.

I cringed again when Maggie's voice rose to an even higher pitch. Though I was hesitant to do it, I put the receiver back up to my ear and unmuted the call.

"Am I gonna have to choose?" Maggie asked. "I don't wanna have to choose between you and Rick! Glenn, I don't wanna have to pick!"

"Mag-" Glenn started to say before he was cut off.

"Daryl, tell them they can't make us pick!" Maggie demanded.

Daryl grunted.

"Oh my GOD! Did you and Rick already discuss this, Michonne?" she asked. "Is that why we haven't heard from you all week? Did Rick get custody of us?!"

And then she started sobbing.

"I love you both so much," she wailed. "This isn't fair. You... Are... My... Closest... Fr-fr-friends," she choked out.

After about a minute or so of listening to Maggie sniffle, I decided that a window of opportunity for me to speak was finally open.

"Maggie," I said in what I hoped was a calming tone of voice. "Please calm down. You-"

"You calm down!" she shouted.

And then she hung up.

Glenn sighed deeply.

"She's been a little all over the place lately," he said apologetically. "I think her," he paused and then whispered, "period is coming."

"Come on, man," Daryl groaned.

"It's a natural bodily function, Daryl," Glenn argued. "Anyways, I get it, Michonne. I know how hard leaving must have been, how hard not being there must be. But why are you and Rick keeping it a secret? I thought... I just thought we were all close enough to share things like this."

"We are," I quickly asserted. "I wasn't keeping it a secret. _We_ weren't keeping it a secret. It's-"

"But you didn't tell us," he interrupted. "You're only saying something now because Daryl happened to stop by Rick's."

I couldn't refute that, so I didn't try.

"Things obviously aren't ok between you and Rick, and that's between you two. But what does that mean for all of us?" he asked. "What about our family game nights and dinners? What about our date nights? What about just hanging out?"

I wasn't sure how to answer those questions.

In a way, Nugget was who brought Gleggie into our lives. It made sense that they'd be concerned by the sudden and drastic change in the dynamics between me and Rick.

"Listen, I'll talk to Maggie," Glenn said. "Just know that we're here for you and Rick and Carl. Always. No matter what."

"I know, Glenn," I said softly. "Thank you."

And then he hung up.

Damn it! I'd pissed off a pregnant lady and disappointed Glenn. I felt awful.

I sat back and waited for Daryl to speak his mind.

"So you just up and left, Michonne?" he shouted.

"Rick obviously didn't tell you either," I said.

"We're not talkin' about Rick. We're talkin' about you," Daryl grumbled. "He'll get his later."

"You told me to take a step back, D. Remember? That's what I'm doing."

"I didn't tell you to disappear on us!" he shouted. "What happened?"

"Rick decided that he can't be what I need, so I decided that I can't be what he needs," I said.

"What the hell does that even mean, 'Chonne?"

"You'll have to talk to Rick about that," I said.

Daryl didn't say anything for a minute.

"Whatever is happenin' between you two, I don't like it," he said quietly.

"I don't like it either," I told him. "But maybe the reality of the situation is that Rick and I are growing apart. It happens."

"Nah. That ain't it," he said dismissively.

I wanted to believe him, but as the days passed without Rick reaching out to me, I wondered if our friendship was even truly salvageable.

"I visited Merle this mornin'," Daryl said with a shaky voice.

"What?!" I shouted, sitting up straight in my chair.

"That's why I stopped by Rick's. I..." his voice broke and he took a deep breath.

"Where are you?" I asked, jumping up.

Daryl rarely ever visited any of his blood relatives. Those visits almost always ended with him reliving the physical and emotional trauma he endured as a child.

"Michonne, sit down. I'm fine," he said. "I'm at my house. I'm ok."

"Daryl-"

"I'm fine. Sit down," he repeated firmly.

I slowly sat back down.

"You, Rick, Carl, Gleggie... you're my family, Michonne. You and Rick need to fix this. Bein' friends has never been hard for you two. It shouldn't be hard now."

"It is when he's being a stubborn jackass," I said. "It's not on me to fix this Daryl. That's on him."

"But you do want him to fix this?" he asked.

"Things will work out however they work out," I said noncommittally.

Of course I wanted Rick to fix things, but Daryl didn't need to know that. If Rick was going to make things right between us, I didn't want him to do it because Daryl told him that I wanted him to.

"And what about Carl?" Daryl asked. "When's the last time you saw him?"

I was ashamed to admit to Daryl how long it had been. Maggie brought him to my condo last week when my ankle was sprained, and I hadn't since him since then.

"So Rick's not the only one bein' a jackass," Daryl said testily.

This was another statement that I couldn't refute, so once again I didn't try.

"You know Rick would let you see Carl regardless of what's goin' on between you two," he said.

"I know, Daryl," I told him.

"If you know then why haven't you seen him?" he asked. "He doesn't need another Lori in his life."

"I'm not-" I started to argue.

"You've been a part of his life since before day one. Don't forget that. You have to be the bigger person for Little Asskicker if Rick won't," he said. "I love you and Rick both, but I love that kid too, Michonne. You and Rick don't compare to him."

"I got it, D," I said, feeling even more ashamed by how I had neglected Nugget.

"Damn right I'm right," Daryl said.

After he grew quiet, I sensed that he wanted to ask something but was hesitant to do so.

"Spit it out," I said when it became clear that he wasn't going to ask.

"Did Rick tell you anythang that night at the hospital? When you went off to talk?" he finally asked.

"He told me all about how he couldn't-"

"I'm not talkin' about what he said he couldn't do, Michonne. He didn't mention anythang else?"

"What else would he have to say?" I asked, recalling the look Daryl and Rick exchanged in the hospital elevator.

Daryl answered with silence.

"What else would he have to say, Daryl?" I asked again.

"But when he called me that night to say he was stayin' at your place, it didn't seem like you two were arguin'," he pointed out.

"I was too exhausted to argue with him," I told him. "What else would Rick have to say to me, Daryl?"

He grunted, and I knew he wasn't going to give me an answer.

"You still comin' to Little Asskicker's birthday party on Sunday?" he asked.

My jaw dropped.

"You don't have to get dramatic. I was just askin'," he grumbled.

"Of course I'll be there," I said crisply. After a few seconds, I added, "Mike and I will be there."

I waited for what I knew was coming.

"Fucking Panty Man," Daryl muttered under his breath.

Between Hershel's accident, my sprained ankle, and moving out of Rick's house, there hadn't been a good time to set up a meeting between Mike and Daryl and Gleggie. There was already a feeling of animosity towards Mike, and now I feared that Daryl and Gleggie would ice him out completely.

"I'm sure I can count on you to be on your best behavior with Mike? No Panty Man talk?" I asked.

I felt my chest tighten as I waited for his response. I didn't want to fight with him over Mike.

"Yeah, ok," he unhappily agreed. "I'll behave when I meet _Mike_. Unless he's an asshole first. And then all bets are off."

"Fair enough," I sighed out.

I was about to ask Daryl when he'd last seen Nugget when I heard a woman's voice call out his name. I tried to listen to their conversation, but Daryl must have covered the phone because their voices sounded muffled.

"Daryl, who was that?" I asked when it sounded like he returned to the phone.

I could hear the panic in his silence.

And then Daryl hung up on me.

Daryl Dixon, who had never had a serious girlfriend or a friend with benefits or a one-night stand, had a woman in his house who he was trying to keep a secret!

I smiled broadly as I called him back.

He sent me to voicemail after the first ring.

I rolled my eyes and called him again.

"What," he mumbled.

"Well?" I asked.

"Well what?" he mumbled back.

"Don't make me interrogate you," I told him. "Who is she?"

"Hold on, I gotta call comin' in," he said, sounding relieved.

He put me on hold before I could say anything.

"It's Gleggie," Daryl told me when he got back on the line. "Maggie wants to call Rick. Gotta go. I'm not pissin' off a pregnant lady, too," he said.

I had no idea how he knew Maggie was pregnant, but I wasn't confirming anything.

"Bring your mystery woman on Sunday, Daryl. We're meeting her," I said before hanging up.

I let out a soft sigh of relief and looked out the window.

Rick was about to deal with the wrath of Gleggie and Daryl; Daryl had a new friend; Maggie's pregnancy secret was no longer just mine to keep; and I didn't feel the need to avoid my family anymore.

Suddenly the day seemed just a little bit brighter.

* * *

 **Saturday Morning**

I pulled my covers over my head and curled into a ball.

Since I'd moved back into my condo, I hadn't been sleeping. I'd get a few hours of sleep, but I spent most of the time tossing and turning.

Last night was no exception.

The idea that I had allowed my ego and my anger to become more of a priority than Nugget's well-being made me sick to my stomach.

 _"We got this."_

Those were the words I'd used to comfort Rick in the hospital after Nugget was born. That was my promise. That was my commitment not just to Rick, but to Nugget.

I wasn't one to make empty promises. I wasn't one not to fulfill my commitments.

It was completely unacceptable that I had no idea who was helping Rick take care of Nugget. It was completely unacceptable that I hadn't told Nugget that I loved him at least once a day since I'd last seen him.

If I had to, I would come to terms with Rick and I failing each other as friends. But I would never be at peace with Rick and I failing Nugget as co-partners.

I needed to see him, to hold him, to apologize to him, to promise him that I'd never fail him in this way again.

My precious little Nugget turned one tomorrow; I had to set things right today.

I threw back my covers, jumped out of bed, and rushed into my bathroom. I quickly brushed my teeth and pulled my locs into a bun on top of my head. I looked at my pajamas in the mirror and then rushed to my closet. I grabbed a cardigan to put on over my pajamas and then grabbed the first pair of non-high heeled shoes that I saw, which ended up being a pair of shiny, black rain boots.

I had one boot on when my doorbell rang.

I had no idea what time it was, but it was too early for visitors. I glanced at my phone.

7:11am.

Anyone who knew me would have called or texted before coming by so early. Even my neighbors knew not to bother me before 10am on a Saturday or Sunday. I ignored the front door and put my other boot on.

When I stood up, the doorbell rang again.

"Coming!" I shouted, walking to the door.

I stopped myself from unlocking it when I had a thought.

 _Mike._

Mike was probably on the other side of the door. He'd been out of town on business since Tuesday and was scheduled to return this evening. He was probably trying to surprise me. While I appreciated the gesture, I did not appreciate his timing.

I swallowed a groan and plastered what I hoped was a pleasant smile on my face before opening the door.

My smile fell when my eyes locked on the man standing in front of me.

My breath caught in my throat when my eyes traveled down to the baby asleep in his arms.

"Hey," Rick whispered.

I looked back up into his blue eyes.

"Hey," I said.


	11. Cross Roads

**A/N: Enjoy! :)**

 **Also, sorry about that Chapter 10 cliff hanger, guys. Lol. (And double apologies to RBGzMom for posting a cliffhanger on a Sunday. LOL). No cliff hanger this time around ;)**

* * *

 **11\. Cross Roads**

My heart and my soul stood before me, but I was frozen in place, paralyzed by my warring emotions. I could hardly catch my breath as the joy from being within arm's reach of Nugget flowed through me.

Anger was also there though, bubbling and refusing to lie dormant.

Although Rick and I had exchanged a few brief texts before I moved out of his house, he and I hadn't seen each other or had an actual conversation in almost two weeks. The man who I'd known almost all of my life, who I had co-partnered with for the last year, who was one of my favorite people in the world, had cut off our friendship with no just cause and, seemingly, without regret.

As we stared at each other, I knew he was struggling to find the words that wouldn't fuel my anger. But just as he was about to speak, Nugget sneezed himself awake.

My heart melted as I watched him stretch his little body, yawn, and open his eyes.

"Bless you, buddy," Rick whispered with a smile, looking down at his son.

"Dadu grah blem sho," Nugget babbled as he tried to sit up in Rick's arms.

"Glad to see you too," Rick said, lifting him into an upright position.

Nugget gurgled and then reached for Rick's nose.

"You want my nose?" Rick asked him. "Well you can't have it," he said playfully, moving his face out of Nugget's reach.

Rick gave him a quick kiss on his forehead before turning him towards me.

"Look who's here," he said softly, pointing in my direction.

Before I could worry about what Nugget's response would be, he screamed "Muh!" and excitedly reached out for me.

My eyes clouded with tears after Rick walked over to me and Nugget practically jumped into my arms. I held him close, savoring the feel of his warm body and inhaling his familiar scent.

"I'm sorry," I told him as my tears started to fall. "I love you so very, very much. I'm sorry I haven't been there for you."

After I gave him a gentle kiss on top of his head, I held him up so that I could get a good look at him. There were undeniable hints of Lori, but he was still mostly a carbon copy of Rick. He erupted into giggles when I attacked him with kisses, and for the first time in days I felt like I was living in a world full of color again.

Without looking directly at Rick, I stepped back into my condo and opened the door wider for him to enter. He picked up Nugget's car seat and diaper bag and stepped past me, but because of the fractured state of our relationship he lingered awkwardly by the door.

His uncertainty over whether he should make himself comfortable or wait for my invitation to do so was both astounding and infuriating. I wasn't ready to swap my joy for my anger though, so once I closed the door I soaked up Nugget's affection as he planted sloppy kiss after sloppy kiss on my cheek.

"Has he eaten?" I asked Rick.

"Yeah. He fell asleep on the way over here," he said, tenderly rubbing Carl's head.

I felt Rick's eyes on me, but instead of returning his gaze, I walked over to the couch and sat down. I stood Nugget up on my thighs and held onto his hands while he bounced up and down.

"Did you get some new freckles, Nugget? You did, didn't you? You got new freckles," I said, sprinkling him with more kisses.

After his squeals died down, I cradled him in my arms and rocked him back and forth. He hadn't changed much since I'd seen him a week or so ago, but I marveled at how much he'd grown since I'd given birth to him. He was so tiny when he was born, and now he was such a big boy.

He had actually attempted to feed himself with his little toddler-sized spoon the last time he was here. But he didn't quite have the coordination to bring the spoon to his mouth, so in a hangry fit he threw the spoon down and used his hands to feed himself instead. Maggie joked that his hangry was a learned behavior from me, but I ignored her cackling and focused on how impressive it was that he even tried to use the spoon.

New tears were threatening to fall when I thought about how fast he was growing up and how he'd eventually be too big for me to cradle. I very much looked forward to discovering the world with him over the years, but I wished that I could freeze time and live in this moment for just a little while longer.

Concerned about his sneeze from earlier, I rested my hand against his forehead to check his body temperature.

"He's not getting sick is he?" I asked Rick, who was still standing by the door.

"Nah, shouldn't be. He wasn't sneezin' yesterday," he said, unzipping the diaper bag and pulling out a blanket. "But he has this if you think he needs it."

"Thanks," I told him as he handed me the blanket. "I think he's ok for now."

I'm not sure how long I spent rocking Nugget and staring into his blue eyes, but eventually I looked up at Rick. He was standing on the other side of the living room and leaning against the wall watching us.

I silently told him that I was ready to listen.

Carl smiled and clapped his hands when Rick pushed the ottoman at the other end of the couch in front of us and sat down on it. Rick returned Carl's smile and gave his tummy a quick rub before turning his attention to me.

His eyes looked troubled and his face looked tired. The past two weeks appeared to have been difficult for him too.

"Michonne, I'm an asshole," he said.

"Language!" I whispered, glancing down at Nugget. It really seemed like Glenn and I were the only ones who cared about Nugget not having a potty mouth.

"I'm an a-hole," he amended.

I stared at him, unimpressed with his self-discovery.

"And I'm sorry," he added. "Your happiness is one of the most important thangs in the world to me."

And those were the words that fueled my anger.

"Richard Arthur Grimes," I said as calmly as possible. "F-U-C-K Y-O-U."

"Mich-"

"Do you not recall how you essentially told me you didn't care about my happiness? Because I recall that very clearly," I said sharply.

Nugget pulled himself up using my cardigan and looked back and forth between me and Rick.

"Clab gerby dof mush dob tee!" he yelled in his baby gibberish.

Then he put his hand between my lips and giggled, waiting anxiously for me to start nibbling. I gave him a small smile and removed his hand.

"Not right now, sweetie," I said, giving his palm a kiss.

He grunted, snatched his hand from mine, and put it back in between my lips.

I removed his hand again.

"Carl," I said sternly.

He pouted and leaned his body into mine. When I didn't think he could look any cuter, he rested his head on my shoulder and started sucking his thumb.

"Is his walker still in the hall closet?" Rick asked me.

I nodded.

He squeezed my knee before getting up to retrieve it.

Once Nugget was happily toddling around in his dinosaur-themed walker, Rick sat down next to me.

"Rick," I said with a warning in my voice.

He got up and moved to the far end of the couch.

We watched Nugget laugh after he pushed a button on his walker that made a roaring dinosaur sound. He laughed in that borderline delirious way that only babies can get away with, and I couldn't stop myself from smiling.

"I understand," Rick said quietly. "I understand what you gave up in stayin' with us after Carl was born and what you gave up in stayin' with us as long as you did."

I scoffed and crossed my arms. "I don't think you do."

"I do," he insisted. "Grateful doesn't even skim the surface of how I feel, but I'm grateful for everythang that you've done for Carl and me. When I was a mess-"

" _Was_?" I asked.

"When I was a mess, you kept me grounded, you kept me sane," he continued. "And you were right… you did take care of Carl when I couldn't. That means everythang to me. I'm here because of you, Michonne. He and I both are."

I kept my eyes on Nugget.

"And yeah, I'm still kind of a mess-"

" _Kind of_? _"_ I asked.

"I'm still kind of a mess, but I've been thinkin' about thangs," he said. " _Really_ thinkin' about thangs, and I don't want to be a mess anymore. I owe Carl that. I owe you that."

He got up from his end of the couch and sat down on the ottoman in front of me. When I didn't look at him, he gently nudged my knee with his.

"What?" I asked rudely, looking into his eyes again.

"I understand why you have to take a step back. I understand why you had to move out," he said. "I understand-"

I rubbed the bridge of my nose and let out a frustrated sigh. "Where was all of this understanding two weeks ago?" I asked, ignoring the sincerity in his eyes.

"I screwed up, Michonne," he said with regret. "I'm sorry."

"That you are," I said, crossing my arms again.

"If you want me to leave, if you need space, then I'll go," he said. "Whatever you need me to do to get us back to us, I'll do it."

Disappointment spread across his face when he read the look on mine and realized what I was going to say.

"I think it is best if you leave, Rick," I told him.

He nodded slowly and stood up.

"Would you," he said, looking down at me and then clearing his throat. "Um… Would you want to spend the day with Carl?"

As surprised as I was by the offer, it took me no time at all to respond. "I would," I said. "If that's ok with you?"

He nodded. "It is."

"I'll bring him back to your house this evening?" I asked as I stood up.

"That's fine," he said softly.

I felt disheartened by our continued disconnect, but the thought of spending most of the day with Nugget eased some of that dismay. I offered Rick a small smile and then held in a groan when I recognized that once again he was feeling uncertain about what he should do next.

He decided to squeeze my hand before walking over to Carl to say goodbye.

"Rick?" I called out as he was opening the front door.

He turned around to look at me.

"What did Daryl and Gleggie say to you?" I asked.

When he looked blankly at me, I added, "When they called you yesterday."

"Oh," he said. "They left a voicemail. A very long, very confusin' voicemail. Maggie was goin' on about custody battles and visitation rights… It was hard to follow, so I stopped listenin' about halfway through the message."

Confusion settled in on Rick's face when I stared at him without saying anything else. He was about to turn and leave when I stopped him with another question.

"Then what made you come over here this morning?" I asked.

"Carl. You," he said without any thought. "This is his last day before turnin' one. How could he not spend it with you? And I guess I would rather be here with you shootin' daggers at me than alone with my head stuck up my ass."

He gave me a melancholy half smile and then reached for the doorknob.

"Rick," I called out to him again.

"Yes, Michonne?" he whispered without turning around.

Forgiveness wouldn't magically make all of the anger and the hurt disappear, and it wouldn't make me forget the anguish I felt when he said _I can't,_ but Rick's self-awareness did add hope to my mix of emotions. And if I was being honest with myself, Rick wasn't the only one to make missteps over the last year. I should have drawn a line.

I had no idea what new shape our friendship was going to take, but I knew we both would be willing to figure that out together.

"Are you hungry?" I asked.

He noticeably exhaled before turning towards me.

"I could eat," he said.

"Then let's eat."

* * *

After inspecting my pantry and refrigerator, I decided that I wanted omelettes and pancakes for breakfast.

"Eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, spinach, cheese, and ham cubes for the omelettes, right?" Rick asked.

"Yes. And I don't want ham chunks, Rick, I want nice bite-sized cubes in my omelette," I told him.

"Got it," he said.

"And I want the mushrooms thinly sliced and the tomatoes finely diced," I told him.

"Got it. Sliced and diced," he said.

"And make sure you rinse the spinach. I know the bag says pre-washed, but… What?" I asked when I saw the expression on his face.

"Do you want to make the omelettes and I'll make the pancakes?"

"No," I said, stirring the pancake batter. "Why?"

"No reason," he replied with a shake of his head.

"And add a splash of milk to the omelette mix," I added.

Rick mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like "so bossy", but I ignored him and added cinnamon to my batter.

We fell into a silence that landed somewhere between strained and comfortable while he focused on chopping and sautéing his ingredients and I started dropping pancakes on the griddle.

"How's this?" Rick asked.

I looked at his piles of cubed ham and sliced mushrooms, but before I could give my seal of approval I was overcome with emotion. When I didn't answer his question, Rick stopped dicing the tomatoes and looked at me.

"Michonne?" he asked with concern.

"I..." was all I could utter before the lump in my throat stopped me from saying anything else.

I looked up at Rick, and I finally allowed myself to cry over what I thought was our lost friendship.

"Come here," he said, pulling me into a hug.

He wrapped his arms around me as my tears dampened the crook of his neck.

"I felt like I couldn't breathe without you," he whispered into my ear. "I was so scared that you'd hate me. So scared that I ruined us."

I cried harder, and he held on to me tighter.

When my tears finally subsided, I tried to pull away from him but he wouldn't let me go. He kept one arm wrapped around my waist, and he cupped my face with his free hand, using his thumb to wipe away the last of my tears.

"I won't hurt you like that again," he promised. "Ever."

He let go of my face so that he could wrap both of his arms around my waist and pull me close. I wrapped my arms around his neck and enjoyed our closeness.

"Michonne?" he said softly after a few minutes.

"Hmmm?" I responded.

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

I pulled away from him just enough to be able to look into his eyes.

He looked me up and down.

"Why are you dressed like a crazy person?"

I rolled my eyes and tried to wriggle free from him, but he tightened his hold on me.

"I'll have you know that this is what love looks like, Rick Grimes," I said with all of the dignity that a person wearing shiny black rain boots and a mid-thigh length beige cashmere cardigan over a cat's meow-themed pajama set could muster.

When I jumped out of bed earlier, my only concern was seeing Nugget, not what I looked like when I saw him.

Rick smiled at me. "Carl is a lucky kid."

We looked over at him having a very animated conversation with the dinosaur head on his walker. I smiled and then looked at Rick, whose love for his son brightly shined on his face.

"Yeah, he is," I agreed. "And anyways, you're the one who looks crazy," I said, staring at his beard.

It had grown fuller and thicker over the last two weeks and was probably a few days away from looking completely unkempt.

"Just tryin' somethin' new," he said. "You don't like it?"

"It's definitely different," I commented. "But I guess the mountain man look works on you," I told him, giving his beard a gentle tug.

"I know it does," he said with an arrogant smirk.

I released an exaggerated exasperated sigh.

"Are you going to let me go?" I asked him. "My pancakes are burning."

"You were gonna burn those anyways," he joked as he released me. "You always burn your pancakes."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I mumbled with a smile as I flipped my slightly burned pancakes.

When we were done cooking, Rick and I sat at the dining room table eating our breakfast. Because my condo had an open floor plan, we were able to keep a watchful eye on Nugget as he toddled around.

"He missed you, you know," Rick said to me. "Looked around for you every day. But it was pretty much impossible to explain to an 11-month old why you weren't there."

"I bet," I said. "Although it was pretty much impossible for me to understand your behavior, and I'm grown."

I looked over at Nugget who was still keeping himself entertained in his walker. Guilt dug itself deeper into my heart. He needed me and I wasn't there for him.

"Yeah, ok, I deserve that," Rick said before eating a forkful of his omelette. "But I think he knew it was my fault," he said after he swallowed. "He projectile pooped a few nights ago. Got me good."

"What?" I asked in surprise. "But he hasn't done that in months."

"I know. That's why I believe it was a planned attack," he said, stuffing his mouth with half a pancake.

I threw my head back and laughed.

"It's not that funny, Michonne," he said with a full mouth.

"It kind of is," I told him through a chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he pouted once he swallowed. "Poop was all over everythang. My shirt, my hair, two walls, the ceilin'."

"Stop," I said, rolling my eyes at his exaggeration. "It was not on the walls and the ceiling."

"It was. I had to get the ladder to clean it," he said seriously, which made me start laughing all over again.

And then I was just laughing because the act of laughing felt really good. It had been too long since the last time I'd done it.

Nugget may have brought color back into my life, but Rick had a way of making those colors dance.

I took a sip of orange juice and looked at Rick once I composed myself.

"You done laughin' at me?" he asked, pushing his empty plate to the side.

"I am!" I answered jovially.

He sat back in his chair, and although he tried to look offended, he smiled.

"So I figured somethin' out," he said, watching me pour more syrup on the last of my pancakes.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" I asked.

"It's a reason I didn't want you to leave," he said with a half shrug, trying to downplay the serious tone of his voice.

I used my fork to drag a pancake triangle back and forth through a pool of syrup, trying to decide if I was ready to have this conversation right now.

"If you don't want to talk about it..." he trailed off.

I ate the last of my pancakes and then looked at Rick. "What did you figure out?" I asked him.

He looked down and his face turned a shade of pink.

"Lori left for a reason," he said, continuing to look down. "Somethin'... somethin' must be really wrong with me on some level, right? That she couldn't even bear to be around me? Not even for her child."

I didn't think it was possible for me to hate Lori any more than I already did until those words came out of Rick's mouth.

"I was scared to do it alone, Michonne," he said. "I still am. What if I'm not good enough? What if I'm not enough for Carl? I wasn't for Lori."

I honestly never stopped to think about the lasting impact of Lori's actions on Rick. But she was his first and only love. She was the only woman he'd ever been with sexually or romantically. She was the woman he had shared a marital intimacy with for fifteen years.

He had lost more than just his wife and the mother of his child when she left; his sense of identity and his self-confidence had been battered as well.

"You have nothing to be scared of, Rick," I said.

Although he avoided looking at me, he couldn't hide his self-doubt from me.

"Rick," I said, reaching across the table and grabbing his hand. "Lori leaving has everything to do with Lori and her issues. Not you. Not Carl. She had choices."

He slowly nodded his head.

"Don't ever think you weren't good enough for her. She was the one who wasn't good enough for you."

He squeezed my hand. "I'm tryin' to get there," he said.

"You will," I told him.

I knew that he needed to be able to talk about those type of feelings with someone, but I despised Lori too much to be able to listen.

"You know that I can't be the one to help you work through Lori issues," I told him. "But if you need someone to talk to, professionally I mean, then I can get you in touch with someone."

"Yeah?" he asked, looking at me with glistening eyes.

I nodded. "Mika meets with someone once a week. Sasha Washington? Williamson? Willis? I can get her information from Mika for you on Monday," I offered.

He didn't seem too keen on the idea of meeting with a therapist, but he didn't seem completely resistant to it either.

"You don't have to call Sasha, Rick. But in case you want to, you can," I told him.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"And you know that you're a great father, don't you? You had a rocky start—there's no overlooking that, but look at how far you've come."

"I have, but-"

"There's no but, Rick. Look at Carl," I told him. "Look at him. He still has all his limbs, he's still happy, he still has freckles coming in..."

He gave me a small smile.

"You make me better, Michonne. Without you, without us doin' what we do together, I feel lost," he said.

It pained me to say what we both knew was coming, but if we were redefining our friendship and the roles that we played in each other's lives, then there was no way around it.

"Rick, you know that I'll still support you and Carl," I said, taking a deep breath. "But I can't be your safety net anymore. I can't be your co-partner. You have to be the one who steps up now as Carl's parent, as his father. You have to learn how to not feel lost without me."

"I know," he said in a quiet voice.

"You know or you will?" I asked.

"I will," he said with determination.

"Good. And don't feel so bad," I said, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. "Nugget's the first kid. You always screw up with the first kid, right?"

"That is true," he said, sniffling. "The first kid is the practice kid."

"Second time around, we'll have this in the bag," I joked.

"We will," he said with a big smile, interlocking his fingers with mine. "Thank you."

"Don't think this means you're in the clear, Grimes. You're still on my list."

"I know, I know," he said. "But thank you all the same."

* * *

After we finished breakfast, I changed out of my crazy lady outfit and into workout shorts and a t-shirt. Since I still had the pair of pajama bottoms that Rick gave me after the Jessie-Lori fiasco, I gave those to him to wear so that he could get comfortable too.

We sat on the couch watching the Pasión de los Cuerpos marathon, which was leading to the season finale that evening, but I was paying more attention to Nugget who was asleep in my arms. He'd gotten a little fussy after breakfast, so Rick and I agreed that he needed a nap.

"How is it that you're even awake right now?" I asked Rick. "Didn't you work last night?"

He suddenly looked embarrassed.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I didn't tell you somethin'," he said.

I looked at him expectantly.

"The week you were recoverin' from your sprained ankle, I was offered a role in the training department at the Academy," he revealed. "Driving Instructor. I just started Monday."

"What!" I screamed excitedly, causing Nugget to stir in his sleep.

Rick and I held our breaths. As much as I loved my little Nugget, he turned into a demon baby if he was woken up prematurely—another trait Maggie said he got from me.

"Rick, that's amazing!" I said in a quieter voice once I was certain that Nugget was still soundly sleeping.

Rick blushed as I smiled at him.

"That's the perfect job for you. Do you like it so far?" I asked.

"I do," he said with a bright smile. "It's only been a week, but I love trainin' future deputies. I feel like I have more of a purpose now than when I was on desk duty."

I nodded in understanding.

"And the hours are great. First shift, Monday through Friday," he said. "Gettin' to be home with Carl at night is really nice."

"That's great, Rick. Congratulations!" I said. "I can't believe we didn't think of that job first."

I was genuinely happy for him, but I also couldn't help feeling annoyed. He had achieved this success, but he hadn't shared it with me and we hadn't celebrated together. All because he was being an asshole.

"So who's watching Nugget in the daytime?" I asked, brushing aside my annoyance.

"Right now Beth is," he answered. "But Maggie gave me a list of daycares in the area, so I've been researchin' those."

And just that quickly, I was annoyed again.

Maggie and Beth knew about Rick's promotion when I didn't? In Maggie's defense, neither Rick nor I had told her that we weren't speaking, so she probably assumed that I knew.

"I never did ask Maggie why she had a list of daycares," Rick said more to himself than to me. "But I've narrowed the list down to two of them if you wanted to look them over? Then we can decide which is the best option for Carl."

"Absolutely," I agreed.

I would do more than just look them over. I'd know everything about the history and the staff of both daycares before Nugget was enrolled in one of them.

I let out a wistful sigh and focused on Nugget's sleeping face.

Life seemed to have gone on spectacularly without me while I plodded around in a sad stupor. Rick had a new job and Nugget was about to start daycare. I couldn't help but wonder what else had happened in the last two weeks that I didn't know about.

"Talk to me," Rick said, pulling me from my thoughts. "You look upset."

"It's nothing that can be changed, so it's not worth discussing," I said curtly.

Rick stared at me.

"You're adorable when you pout," he said, moving closer to me and putting his arm around my shoulders.

"I'm a grown woman, Richard. I do not pout," I told him with an eye roll.

"Of course you don't," he said teasingly. When I didn't respond, he let out a slow breath. "I was barely functionin' that first week without you, Michonne," he said seriously. "Thangs got a little better this past week because my work hours changed, but only a little."

When I didn't turn to look at him, he gently cupped my chin with his thumb and forefinger and turned my face towards him.

"Outside of my job and me growin' this beard, the only other thang that's happened is I gained five pounds. You left your ice cream in the freezer, so that's all I've been eatin'," he said. "For breakfast and dinner. You didn't miss anythang else."

I looked him up and down, trying to figure out where the five pounds went.

"So what you're telling me is that Carl pooped on you and you got fat while we weren't talking?" I asked.

He released his hold on my chin, shook his head, and then gave me a kiss on the side of my head.

"I don't like how happy that makes you," he mumbled.

The poop and the weight gain did make me smile, but I was mostly just relieved that life seemed to have been as hollow for him as it had been for me.

"You wanna keep watchin' the show?" he asked.

"I do," I said, relaxing next to him.

After watching Pasión de los Cuerpos for a few more hours, Rick and I couldn't wait for the season finale.

"Maria turned into a stone cold bee-yatch once she found out her birth father was a billionaire oil tycoon," I said to Rick. "She was such a sweetie pie when she was goat herding."

When Rick didn't agree, I looked at him.

"Language," he said smugly.

I thought about what I'd just said.

" _Bee-yatch_? Please. Bee-yatch doesn't count," I scoffed.

"So if I say uh-sole instead of asshole, then I won't be reprimanded by you?"

"Seriously, Rick? You just said asshole again. We need to start a swear jar," I told him.

"He's fine. He's asleep," he said, looking at Nugget. "You never answered my question. Is uh-sole acceptable?"

"No. That's ridiculous. No one says uh-sole. People say bee-yatch," I told him.

He laughed out loud. "Is that your argument?"

"Yes," I said adamantly.

"So you're ok with Carl sayin' bee-yatch this and bee-yatch that when he starts talkin'?"

I wasn't, but I didn't want to admit it to Rick.

"I really don't think you should be in charge of the swear jar," he laughed.

"Then stop swearing around my innocent little Nugget and we won't need one," I said.

"But you were the one who swore first," he complained.

When he saw the look on my face, he laughed again. "Sheesh. Two weeks worth of bossy is just burstin' at the seams."

"Whatever, Rick," I said, fighting a smile.

"Hey, what should we order for the finale?" he asked. "Take-out from Don Pablo's?"

Don Pablo's sounded like a delicious idea, until I remembered something, or rather someone.

Mike.

I had a couch date with Mike tonight. He and I had plans to watch the finale together.

"Not a fan of Don Pablo's anymore?" he asked.

"No, it's not that. It's just…"

"Oh," Rick said, sitting up straighter and removing his arm from around my shoulders. "Sorry. I figured… I just thought… I'll get outta here before the finale, give you more time to-"

"Rick, it's not that either. We're good," I told him. "I, uh, I have plans to watch the finale tonight. With Mike. Kind of a date night."

Dramatic music from the show filled the living room as Maria's limo pulled up to her family's farm and she stepped out of the vehicle.

"Oh yeah?" Rick finally said.

I nodded.

We stared at the tv screen.

"So, how are thangs goin'? With Mike?" he asked, still staring at the screen.

"Ok," I answered, also still staring at the screen. "He's been on a business trip all week."

"Just ok," he said. "Well ok."

We watched Maria slap her goat herding half-sister Ana Sofia and then order her henchmen to take the family's prized goat.

"What do you mean by 'just ok'?" I asked, turning to look at him.

"Nuthin'. I just thought thangs were at least goin' great by now. Ok is just ok."

"Ok, Rick," I said, growing uncomfortable with the conversation.

"I almost feel bad for him," Rick continued, although his tone of voice indicated otherwise. "You're at an 'ok', but from how he was actin' at the steakhouse, he's found the woman of his dreams."

I didn't respond, hoping that he would take the hint and let the conversation die.

He didn't.

"So what exactly are you doin' with this guy, Michonne?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"What do you mean? I'm dating him. I'm getting to know him. I'm figuring out if he could be the one," I said.

"You know he's not the one," he said bluntly.

"I said I'm figuring out if he could be," I repeated, starting to feel agitated. "He and I haven't even had a chance to date like a normal couple until now, in part because of you. So maybe you shouldn't be so quick to write him off."

"Ok, Michonne," Rick said with a dramatic eye roll.

"You don't even know him," I argued.

"I met him once. That was enough," he said. "But go ahead, tell me what's so great about him."

"I don't have to prove anything to you," I scoffed.

"So you _can't_ tell me what's so great about him or you don't want to?" he asked.

"Drop it, Rick. I'm done with this conversation."

"It just seems to me that if he was so perfect, you'd be able to-"

"Rick, in three years I'll be forty. Four. Zero. I want someone special. I don't want to be alone," I confessed. "And Mike? He could be that someone special. I'm just trying to figure that out."

Rick's face softened.

"Is Carl's crib still in your bedroom closet?" he asked, standing up.

I protectively held onto my sleeping Nugget and nodded.

After Rick set up the crib in my room and convinced me to let Nugget finish his nap in it, he sat next to me on the couch and put his arm around me again.

"You'll find your someone special, ok?" he said.

"You're obligated to say that," I told him. "It's your duty as my friend."

"But I mean it. You will," he insisted.

I looked into his blue eyes. "How do you know?"

"Michonne, you gave me the most special person in my life. I have no doubt in my mind that you'll find what you're lookin' for. You're too amazin' not to," he said. "And if Mike ends up bein' that person, then I really do wish you both all of the happiness in the world."

"Thank you," I whispered, resting my head on his shoulder.

I wasn't sure why I felt compelled to ask about Lori, especially since his responses in the past had either led to heated discussions or full blown arguments, but I asked all the same.

"Do you still have feelings for her, Rick?"

He rested his head on top mine.

"If she popped up tomorrow, I honestly don't know how I would feel," he said. "She's still my wife. She's Carl's mother. I just don't know, Michonne. I'm still sortin' through thangs."

My gut reaction was to start debating with him over the use of "wife" and "mother." After that, I wanted to question how he could possibly feel anything except disgust for someone who left him questioning his worth as a husband and as a father. But I recognized how big of a step it was for Rick not to defend her and not to throw love into the conversation, so this one time I'd let it go.

"Can I tell you somethin' you probably don't want to know?" he asked, lifting his head from mine to look at me.

"If I say no, you'll tell me anyways," I said. "So what is it?"

"I really, really miss haircuts," he admitted.

I actually looked at his hair before I realized what he meant.

 _Haircuts._

And then the disturbing image of Lori giving Rick haircuts popped into mind.

"What's that look?" Rick asked with a laugh.

"I guess I just never thought of Lori as being good at giving haircuts," I told him.

"Lori had some moves," he said, smiling fondly at some memory of Lori.

I felt what I could only describe as a simultaneous need to both vomit and break something.

"Mike has moves too," I said instead.

We stared at each other, daring each other to share something else.

"I don't want to hear about you and Mike naked, Michonne," Rick said gruffly.

"Well I don't want to hear about you and Lori naked either," I snapped back.

"Fine," he said.

"Great," I said.

We sat in a tense silence until Rick poked me in my side. When I ignored him, he poked me again.

"What, Rick?"

"We probably shouldn't talk about stuff and thangs," he said.

"You think?" I asked him sarcastically, still disturbed by the thought of him and Lori doing stuff and things. "And no one calls it 'stuff and thangs'. You can be such a child, Rick."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he grumbled with a smile.

We stared at the tv without really watching it.

"'Chonne? With this guy, with Mike... don't settle," he said. "It's ok if he's not the one. Don't try to make somethin' happen between you."

"I won't," I promised.

"Good," he said. "And hey, maybe we should consider makin' one of those pacts in case you're not with anyone on your fortieth birthday," he added casually.

I laughed. "You're a little late. I already made one with Daryl."

He frowned at me. "I didn't realize you two were plannin' on bein' together like that," he said.

"It's not really a plan to be together. More like a plan to not be alone," I said. "I pretty much had to force Daryl to agree to it anyways. You know how he is."

He was squinting at me and looked like he was seconds away from a head tilt.

"Stop," I said with an eye roll. "He and I made the pact on my 30th birthday after Aaron had his _realizations_ and broke up with me. Daryl is my desperate and lonely option."

It was evident that Rick's feelings were hurt, although I couldn't understand why.

"Rick, you were married at the time, remember? I wasn't going to make the pact with you. And would you really want me and Lori in a Big Love situation?" I joked.

Rick looked as if he was considering it.

"Nah, I guess not," he said. "Besides, you'd kind of be like sloppy seconds if you went from a pact with Daryl to a pact with me. I have standards," he said with a straight face.

Before he could stop me, I jumped on him and started tickling him.

When we were kids, I would turn into a tickle torturing machine if Daryl or I wanted something from Rick. Neither Daryl nor I would bat an eye when it came to being tickled. But Rick? He broke every time.

"Stop, stop! You'll wake up Carl," he said between bursts of laughter.

"Take it back, Rick," I said. "I'm not sloppy seconds."

"I don't think I will," he said smugly. "And I think I have the advantage now, Michonne."

My tickle attack had left me in a compromised position. Although I had pushed Rick onto his back and I was sitting on his stomach, he easily held my wrists in place. Rick restrained people for a living, so I knew he had the upper hand. I'd have to resort to the only thing I could think of.

"What are doin'?" he asked as I inched closer to his face.

"Michonne?" he asked warily, jerking his head away from me. "Are you tryin' to lick my face?"

I laughed and then tried to lick his forehead.

"Truce! Truce!" he yelled.

"Sshhh. You'll wake up Carl," I teased.

"Truce," he said quietly.

"Let go of my wrists," I ordered.

Once he let them go, I became very much aware of the fact that I was lying directly on top of him.

Because I'd learned long ago that things were only awkward if you made them awkward, I decided to carry on as if our bodies weren't pressed together.

"You know that Daryl and I have never..."

"I know," he said, bringing his hands to my waist.

"He and I would never..." I said, staring at his lips.

"I know," he whispered as his grip on my waist ever so slightly tightened.

"Good," I said, tickling him one last time for good measure before moving off of him.

I headed to the kitchen because I wasn't sure what else to do. I was feeling a little overheated and I needed some breathing room.

"Did you know that Daryl has a new lady friend?" I asked as I grabbed a glass from a cabinet.

"I did not," Rick said without sitting up.

"I heard her when he called me yesterday. He got real tight-lipped about it too, but she's supposed to be at Nugget's party," I told him while filling the glass with water.

I walked back over to the couch, and when I saw that he was completely stretched out I kneed a cushion.

"Move," I said.

I sat down after he sat up, making sure to leave space between us. I held my water out to him, but he shook his head.

"Can I tell you something that you already know?" I asked him.

"Yep," he said.

"I really, really hate arguing with you, Rick."

"So let's stop arguin'."

"What a novel idea. I wish I had thought of that sooner," I said dryly, setting down the glass of water.

"Smart A-S-S," he said with a smile.

"So how do we just stop arguing, oh wise one?" I asked.

"Well, you did stalk and threaten a new mother because she had a crush on me. So, I don't know, maybe if you didn't do thangs like that we wouldn't argue?" he suggested.

"Wow… stalk and threaten? Ok," I said. "Well, you did throw a tantrum like a little boy and refuse to eat a $60 steak that you didn't even have to pay for. So, I don't know, maybe if you didn't do things like that we wouldn't argue?"

"I'll take that under advi-" he started to say.

"And maybe you shouldn't deal with people who have nicknames like Thirsty Gymboree Ho," I added.

"Well, you are currently dating a man nicknamed Panty Man," he said. "Panty. Man."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes as he laughed.

"Panty Man and Thirsty Gymboree Ho. It's like a terrible superhero duo," he said, laughing even louder.

"So immature," I mumbled, choking back my own laughter.

"Ok, ok" he said, holding his pinky up. "Let's make the very unrealistic promise to never fight again."

I reached over and locked my pinky with his. "Deal."

We held onto each other's pinkies and looked into each other's eyes.

"I really missed you," he said.

"I really missed you too, Rick."

* * *

The sound of my phone ringing woke me up from a very deep and much needed sleep.

I rubbed my eyes and looked around. Rick was sitting up but asleep and snoring on the other end of the couch, and another episode of Pasión de los Cuerpos was playing on tv. It looked like we just missed the episode where Javier revealed he had a bionic hand.

 _Damn._

I swung my feet out of Rick's lap and stood up to stretch. When I heard Nugget making noise in my bedroom, I forgot all about answering my phone.

"Nugget, what are you doing in here?" I asked, picking him up out of his crib.

"Bre shaw dit no jojo," he said to me.

"I can't wait until you speak real words," I said to him in a baby voice before kissing him on his chubby cheeks.

He giggled and leaned forward to kiss my chin.

Since Rick fed him lunch when I started dozing off, I checked to see if he had a wet diaper. He was definitely in need of a diaper change, but at least it didn't smell like he made a poopy. As I was walked back into the living room to get his diaper bag, my phone started ringing again.

Now that I was wide awake, I recognized the ring tone.

Mike was calling.

"Hi, Mike," I said cheerfully into my phone.

"Good afternoon, Michonne," he replied, sounding relieved. "I was worried you weren't available."

"I'm here at home and available. I've just been a little preoccupied today," I told him, looking at Nugget who was desperately trying to grab my phone.

The determined look on his face made me want to toss my phone aside and shower him with kisses.

"Hopefully preoccupied thinking about me?" Mike asked.

I dodged Nugget's hand.

"You crossed my mind," I said truthfully. "But Rick and Carl also stopped by, so I've been spending some time with them."

"I see," he replied dryly.

Knowing that Nugget would be more interested in crawling towards Rick than trying to grab my phone, I sat him down on the couch.

"I have unexpectedly delightful news," Mike said. "My business trip was a great success and concluded earlier than anticipated. As such, I was able to board an earlier flight home. It's my hope that you will accompany me to dinner before our couch date this evening."

"I'd like that, Mike," I said with a smile.

Rick jolted awake after Nugget crawled into his lap and started pounding on his chest.

"Fantastic! The head chef of Blue Fish is an old family friend. You're in store for a night of delectable sushi and premium Japanese saké, Michonne. The best in town," Mike raved.

"That sounds lovely," I told him.

"Indeed. I'll pick you up around six then? Although, I imagine if I stopped by at this very moment you'd already look divine."

"You're too sweet," I said softly. "I'll be ready at six, Mike. Don't you dare stop by a minute sooner."

He laughed. "I'll see you shortly, Michonne. And, I presume, I'll be seeing Rick and Carl as well."

I looked over at Rick, who was rubbing his eye and stretching.

"See you soon, Mike," I said.

Once I hung up the phone, I looked at the time.

4:39pm.

"You have to go," I said to Rick.

"Kickin' us to the curb, huh?" he asked in a raspy voice.

He looked at Nugget and then held Nugget up to his ear. "What's that, Carl? You don't say."

Nugget giggled when Rick raised him above his head and then brought him back down to his lap.

"Carl says that's stone cold, Michonne."

"Rick, I need to get ready for my date in peace. I love you both, I really do, but you need to change Nugget and then leave," I said.

Rick looked down at Carl. "What do you think, buddy? Should we leave?"

Nugget gurgled.

"I agree," Rick said. "Carl thinks we should stick around."

"Rick!" I said in exasperation.

"I'm not tryin' to be difficult, Michonne. I'm really not. It just sounded like he was gonna stop by to pick you up?" he asked.

"He is," I said, narrowing my eyes.

"So if I'm supportin' you and your relationship and bein' a good friend, shouldn't I start gettin' to know him better?" he asked.

"Get to know him better tomorrow, Rick."

He looked at the clock. "You should really start gettin' ready now. You're losin' time," he said.

I groaned, shot him a dirty look, and then walked to my bedroom to go through my closet.

"Where are you goin' anyways?" Rick asked, suddenly appearing in the closet doorway with Nugget. "What happened to your couch date?"

"We're getting sushi and then coming back here," I said.

"Sushi? For the finale of Pasión de los Cuerpos?" he asked as if that was the most ridiculous thing in the world. "I thought you wanted Don Pablo's."

"Food is food," I told him, looking through my clothes.

I decided on a short, wine-colored leather skirt, a black, sleeveless turtleneck bodysuit, and a pair of black heels.

"All that for sushi?" Rick asked.

"Yes, Rick," I said, walking to the doorway and stopping in front of him and Nugget. "This is my sushi outfit for the evening."

Nugget made a kissy face while reaching out for my face. I gave him a quick kiss and then looked up at Rick.

"Take those pants off," I ordered.

He turned a deep shade of red. "What?!"

"Take those pajama pants off and put your jeans back on," I said, walking around him and heading to my bathroom. "And change Nugget's diaper. I'm jumping in the shower."

I emerged from my room fully dressed and flawless at 5:50PM. Rick was talking to Nugget and feeding him applesauce at the dining room table.

"Muh!" Nugget screamed and then clapped.

I walked into the dining area and turned around in a full circle to show off my outfit.

"Nugget certainly approves. What do you think?" I asked Rick.

He slowly looked me up and down. "All that for sushi, huh?" he asked with an impressed smile.

"I know. I look amazing! Now which pair of earrings should I go with— the hoops or the studs?" I asked, holding up one of both types to my ears.

Rick slowly looked me up and down again.

"I'm not Maggie, Michonne. I'm not givin' you fashion advice," he said. "But believe me, he's not gonna notice your ears."

Something about his stare and the tone of his voice made me catch my breath, but before I could acknowledge the heat that spread through my body, there was a knock at the door.

I looked at the time. 6 o'clock on the dot.

"You look beautiful!" Mike beamed when I opened the door.

"Thank you! And welcome back! Come in."

I closed the door and said a quick prayer for Rick to behave himself.

"I brought this is for you," Mike said, pulling a flower from behind his back and then leaning in to give me a kiss on my cheek. "One long-stemmed red rose in a hand blown, cranberry-tinted glass vase."

"It's beautiful. Thank you!" I gushed, giving him a hug.

I walked to the dining room area to put the vase on the table and ignored the unimpressed look on Rick's face.

"Rick," Mike said cordially when he noticed Rick.

"Mike," Rick said somewhat less cordially.

"And that little fellow must be Carl?" Mike asked, looking at Nugget.

"He is," Rick replied.

I gave him a warning look as I positioned the vase on the table.

"I'm glad you made it back early," I grinned, walking back over to Mike.

"As am I," he said. "I missed you. Very much."

Rick snorted.

"I'm sorry, Rick, but did I miss something?" Mike asked, his jaw tensing.

"Nuthin' at all. Everythang is _just ok_ over here," he said, looking at me.

I silently told Rick that it was time for him to leave. He silently told me that he wasn't ready to do that just yet.

"So where did your business trip take you?" he asked Mike.

"Out of town," Mike answered.

"Huh. Michonne never really has to go on business trips," Rick commented. "I guess environmental law is a little different from contract law?"

"I don't really care to discuss business with non-business associates, Rick. Privacy and confidentiality concerns. I'm sure you understand," Mike said haughtily.

Rick stared at him and started fidgeting his fingers. "Yeaaaah," he replied slowly. "I'm sure I do."

"Tomorrow should be quite the day for both you and Carl. I look forward to being a part of it," Mike said, wrapping his arm around my waist. "We both do."

Rick attempted to smile politely but ended up squinting at Mike instead. "I think we should probably head out, Mich. Leave you two to your night."

"Sounds like a wonderful idea," Mike answered, tightening his grip around my waist.

Before Rick could tilt his head to the side, I pulled away from Mike.

"Why don't you sit down for a few minutes while I help Rick pack up and see him out," I suggested.

"Of course," he said, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll be seeing you, Rick," he added with a smirk.

* * *

"What was that? I thought you were supposed to be getting to know him?" I asked Rick as we waited for the elevator to get to my floor.

"I tried," he said.

"That was you trying?" I asked.

"Yep," he said simply. "But he's still an uh-sole, and I still don't like him."

I crossed my arms and glared at him. "I don't want any drama at Nugget's first birthday," I warned him.

Rick sighed and then lightly tugged on a few of my locs. "Your boyfriend has a bad attitude, Michonne, but I'll try harder. For you," he said. "And tomorrow's gonna be a perfect, drama-free day, so you can stop glarin' at me now."

"Richard Arthur Grimes, if you messed up my hair I will hurt you," I told him.

My french braid wrap had taken a lot of time to get just right.

"Now give me my precious little Nugget," I demanded.

I held Nugget out in front of me, just as I had earlier this morning. I wanted to get one last look at him as an 11-month old. When he put his tiny hand between my lips and looked at me with wide eyes, I finally gave him what he wanted and nibbled away. The sound of his laughter was such beautiful music to my ears.

I gave him a kiss, leaving an imprint of my lips on his forehead from my deep burgundy lipstick. I tried not to get emotional as I held him close.

"Birthdays are a good thang, Michonne. Don't start cryin' on me," Rick said, pulling me into a side hug.

"I'm fine," I told him. "Just happy."

Nugget was thrilled that we were all so close together and tried to hug and kiss us both. I left another imprint of my lips on his cheek.

"Thank you for coming by today," I said to Rick, handing Nugget back to him.

"Thank you for lettin' me in," he said with a smile that lit up his face.

When the elevator dinged, Rick leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on my check.

"Enjoy yourself tonight. And remind me to take you out for sushi some time," he whispered in my ear before taking another look at my outfit.

I laughed off his silliness and watched my little Grimes family step onto the elevator.

As the elevator doors started to close, I waved goodbye to Nugget and then to Rick.

"Hey!" I shouted suddenly, stopping the doors with my foot before they could close completely.

Rick and Nugget both looked at me with the same surprised face.

"Did you need me to get to Hershel's early tomorrow to help set up?" I asked.

"Nah, you and Mike can get there around noon with the other guests," he said.

Something about being lumped into the other guests category felt wrong, but I nodded.

"Ok, then. See you tomorrow," I said.

"Bye, Michonne."

I took a step back and waved as the doors started closing.

"Wait!" I shouted, stopping the doors again before they could close completely.

Rick and Nugget looked amused.

"I forgot to ask... Daryl said you had something to tell me the night we were at the hospital?"

His cheeks flushed, and then he smiled. "Another time," he said.

"You sure?"

"Mike's waitin' on you," he reminded me.

"Another time then," I told him. "So I'll see you tomorrow."

"You sure?" Rick asked with a smile. "Anythang else?"

I blew Nugget a kiss, and this time when the elevator doors closed, I didn't stop them.

I walked back to my condo, looking forward to the evening but also wishing it was Sunday.

* * *

 **A/N part2: So this chapter was a little lengthier than the others, but I felt it was necessary for Richonne. They had some things to work through, which meant a lot of talking.**

 **Initially, I was going to spread these conversations out over more time instead of over the course of a day, but 1) Nugget's birthday is the next day, so I wanted the air to be as clear as possible between them, and 2) they've been deprived of each other for the last two weeks, so spending the day together talking and reconnecting is just something that they would naturally do.**

 **They both still have issues to work on and to resolve, but at least they're in a much better place for this slow burn to start sizzling... eventually. Lol.**

 **Thanks for reading! I'll try to get the next chapter up soon. Your feedback is always welcome!**


	12. Bitches Be Crazy (part 1)

**12\. Bitches Be Crazy (part I)**

 **Saturday Evening**

I sat at the saké bar sipping on a drink and waiting for Mike to return after he'd stepped away to take a phone call. Blue Fish was relatively empty, which Mike quickly assured me was due to the early dining hour, so he'd taken the call in a booth in a corner of the restaurant.

Five minutes after he answered the call, I was tolerant of his absence.

Five minutes after that, with no sign of the call ending, my irritation was rising. I hadn't given up the end of my nap and a few more hours with Nugget to sit alone at a bar.

Mike's saving grace was that the bar was located in the middle of the restaurant, easily allowing me to observe him as he held his conversation. I wasn't able to hear what he was discussing, but I found his concerned, then panicked, and then agitated facial expressions to be very curious. I intended to question him thoroughly once he returned.

I gestured to Tamiko, our smiling bartender with bright red streaks in her hair, for another drink. She only spoke Japanese, but without Mike there to communicate, I could only nod when she pointed to a green bottle of saké.

I smiled in appreciation as she handed me a new cup, which I slowly sipped from as I took in the restaurant's décor.

Blue Fish had an eccentric but trendy vibe. The indoor lighting was aqua blue, the in-ceiling speakers were playing soft Asian instrumental music, and I think I noticed a fog machine tucked away. If Maggie was still single, then I'm sure this would've been her suggestion for a girls' night out spot. The fog machine and the 3am closing time left no doubt in my mind that the mild, early evening atmosphere transformed into something else by midnight.

I was actually very surprised that Mike had taken me here. Even if the sushi was as delicious as he claimed, Blue Fish was definitely not his style. He'd mentioned that the owner was a family friend though, and since I had started introducing him to my family, it made perfect sense that he would start introducing me to his.

I continued to sip the saké.

With Mike still very much engaged in his phone conversation and with no one but Tamiko to keep me company, I was left with my thoughts.

They drifted to Rick.

For the majority of Rick's relationship with Lori, I was convinced that she wasn't the one for him. But, up until the night she left, I supported their relationship because Rick seemed so adamant that she was. My gut instinct had been proven right, whether Rick had come to that conclusion yet or not.

And now Rick was convinced that Mike wasn't the one for me, that I might be forcing something that wasn't there.

Based on principle, I was obligated to take his words to heart.

Based on fear, I didn't want to.

Single and happy wasn't working for me anymore. I wanted something more.

 _"So what exactly are you doin' with this guy?"_

Rick's question was a fair one.

Mike and I had been together for a few months, and while I couldn't deny that there was a spark between us, I also couldn't deny that there wasn't exactly an explosion.

I drank the rest of my saké and gestured to Tamiko for another. She pointed to a brown bottle, and I nodded.

I glanced at Mike again, who now looked pleased by whatever turn his conversation had taken. When he caught me staring, he smiled at me. One of those big "you're a sight for sore eyes" smiles.

While I appreciated that I could make his face light up from across a room, the most I could give him was a lazy smile in return. Mike didn't take my breath away or make me dizzy with desire. When I looked at him, what I saw was a man who had the potential to make me happy enough.

That measure of happiness, and my willingness to accept it, would not sit well with Rick.

"Probably break his heart," I told Tamiko, who smiled politely as she handed me a new cup of saké.

I believed Rick when he said that my happiness was one of the most important things to him. I felt the same way about his. I also accepted that our argument wasn't spurred by his selfishness alone, but by his insecurities too.

And though he hadn't acknowledged it, I suspected there was also an underlying degree of jealousy that played a role in why we had argued.

That nasty little degree. I was all too familiar with it.

I felt it the time Jessie was sniffing around. I felt it when I thought about Lori returning. Having to share my time with Rick and Nugget, or worse yet having to lose that time to someone who I felt was not in the least bit deserving, was…

I shook my head, drained the saké from my cup, and then pointed to a blue bottle. Tamiko promptly reached for it to prepare another drink.

Rick and Nugget.

"My guys," I whispered.

Who weren't really mine at all.

Who I had officially taken a step back from.

When Tamiko handed me another cup of saké, I'd already decided to request the red bottle next.

By the time Mike returned from his call, the heaviness of my thoughts had been lifted and the night was primed to become a blissful blur.

* * *

 **Sunday Morning**

I groaned.

Last night was a maddening blur.

I sat in my car with my seat reclined, feeling every sip of that premium Japanese saké. Drunk before 8PM was a new low for me, but being in a hungover state on Nugget's first birthday of all days was an even lower low.

I groaned again.

Gone were the days when only logic, reason, evidence and facts were what guided me as I navigated through my personal affairs. Emotion had infiltrated, and now here I was.

Although I'd pulled into Hershel's about 20 minutes ago, the pounding in my head kept me pinned to my seat. But even at 8 in the morning, the Georgia heat could be fierce; beads of sweat were already forming all over my body. Being hungover and drenched in sweat seemed decidedly worse than just being hungover, so I moved my seat into an upright position, adjusted my shades, and got out of my car.

As I lumbered up the path to the barn where Nugget's party was being set up, I silently cursed the sun and its nerve to shine so brightly.

I silently cursed the one bird that was incessantly chirping away.

I silently cursed myself for my insistence, months and months ago, that we all dress up as comic book characters today. Rick was the only one who caved to my badgering, and though he suggested that I dress up as Catwoman to complement his Batman, I'd thankfully gone with a Wonder Woman costume instead. In my current state, the Catwoman suit would have been hell to put on and a nightmare to walk around in, especially considering that I was struggling with the act of walking as it was.

I took a few more steps before I had to stop and take a break. The barn was in sight, but so was Hershel's house.

I weighed my options.

The house was closer; the front door was almost always left unlocked throughout the day; and Hershel and Annette kept the refrigerator stocked with icy cold beverages.

I decided to make a detour.

"Shit!" I grumbled loudly after staggering to the house.

I'd forgotten about the seven steps leading up to the wrap-around porch.

 _I can do this._

I could.

I'd come too far to do anything but stay the course.

I took a deep breath and grabbed onto the stair railing to my left.

 _Lift right foot. Lift left foot. One..._

 _Lift right foot. Lift left foot. Two..._

 _Lift right foot. Lift left foot. Three…_

 _Lift right foot. Lift left foot. Four…_

 _Breathe._

 _Breathe._

 _Breathe._

 _Lift right foot. Lift left foot. Five..._

 _Lift right foot. Lift left foot. Six..._

 _Lift right foot. Lift left foot. Seven._

I wrapped my arms around the column at the top of the stairs and rested my head against it. Once I caught my breath, I silently cursed the stairs.

I was only about four feet away from the screen door.

I was so close.

I just had to move my feet again.

"Hi, stranger," a familiar soft voice said, startling me.

I turned my head in the direction of the voice to find Hershel sitting on the porch in a wheelchair. He was wearing a green luau shirt and holding a glass of what looked like lemonade.

With ice cubes.

I tried not to drool.

"You know there's a ramp you could've went up," he said, looking past me.

I slowly turned my head to the right and saw a wheelchair ramp off the side of the porch.

"I suppose I could've told you sooner, but what would be the fun in that?" he asked with a chuckle.

I swallowed a few hangover-induced unpleasantries before I spoke.

"Good morning, Hershel," I croaked.

I watched him take long sips of his lemonade until it was gone.

"Ahhhhhh," he said in that soft voice of his. "Refreshing."

I narrowed my eyes at his commentary. If I didn't know him as well as I did, then I'd think he was just enjoying a cold drink on a warm morning. But I had come to know him very well over the last year, so I knew better.

Hershel Greene was being messy.

As he lowered the drink away from his mouth, I heard the clink of ice against the glass.

I tried not to whimper.

"So what did you in?" he asked. "Wine? Tequila?"

"Saké," I mumbled.

He laughed heartily. "Well that's a new one."

"Is it that obvious that something did me in?" I asked.

"I've had a few rough morning afters in my day," he said. "I know the signs. But yes, it's also that obvious."

I felt terrible for a new reason altogether. I was a hungover mess in front of an alcoholic who had almost lost his leg due to his own drunkenness. My new lows were growing.

"Want to talk about it?" Hershel asked.

I slowly shook my head, continuing to hug the column tightly.

"When did you get a ramp?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Let's see… the girls, Glenn, Daryl, and some folks from church built it right before I was released from the hospital," he said. "You were missed. Rick too."

"Hate that we missed it," I said glumly.

I was willing to bet that Maggie tried to get in touch with me about helping out with the ramp, but because I'd been avoiding texts and calls at the time, I missed her invite.

"You and Rick get everything sorted out between you? Maggie stopped going on about having to choose one of you, so I imagine you did," he said with a smirk.

I shook my head at Maggie's overly dramatic ways.

"We're good," I told him with a smile.

"Good," he replied.

"And how are you, Hershel?" I asked, tolerating the relentless pounding in my head.

Hershel's right leg was in a full length cast and there was an assortment of bruises, cuts and scrapes in various stages of healing all over his body.

"Causing my girls pain is what hurts more than anything," he said quietly. "My body will heal. That's what bodies do. It's the heart that needs the most time to recover."

He sat in a melancholy daze for a few minutes before resuming our conversation.

"My doctor says I'll be in this thing for the next twelve to sixteen weeks," he said as he tapped one of the wheelchair's armrests.

"That's quite the recovery period," I commented.

He nodded before a mischievous look blossomed across his face. "Don't tell anyone," he said, keeping his voice low. "But I've been practicing on some old crutches. I'll be out of this chair in two months, tops."

"Well aren't you the bad ass?" I asked.

"I am," he said with a satisfied smile.

"You be careful, old man," I warned. "But your secret's safe with me."

His smile broadened into a grin as I started to make my way to the screen door.

I could get there if I took three large steps.

 _Move right foot forward._

 _Move left foot forward._

 _Move right foot forward._

"Where's this new fella I've heard so much about?" Hershel asked when my hand grasped the screen door handle. "The Undies Guy?"

"Panty Man," I said, correcting him. "Mike actually," I quickly added, correcting myself.

I silently cursed Daryl for introducing "Panty Man" into everyone's vocabulary.

"He'll be here," I told Hershel. "I'll make sure you meet him."

"Looking forward to it," he said. "Undy Man sounds like quite the character."

I shook my head and pulled the screen door open. There was no telling what all he'd been told about Mike, but if it came from Maggie or Daryl then it was guaranteed to be unfavorable and unflattering.

"Michonne?" Hershel called out, interrupting my progress once again.

I tried not to groan.

"Yes, Hershel?"

"There's extra-strength Tylenol in the bathroom near the kitchen," he said. "I have stronger stuff, but that's all you get. There's water, lemonade, and sun tea in the refrigerator. Plenty of ice in the freezer. And Annette still has some biscuits and gravy out, so eat something."

I exhaled in relief.

"Thank you," I said before opening the screen door and finally entering the house.

My first stop was the bathroom. I swallowed four Tylenol tablets and then took my shades off and splashed water on my face. I cringed when I saw my reflection in the mirror. Indoors or out, sun shining or not, I'd have to wear my shades all day.

My next stop was the kitchen. A plate of warm biscuits and gravy and a cup of warm tea were waiting for me, courtesy of Annette no doubt. She must have overheard my conversation with Hershel. Maggie once told me that Annette had a remedy for almost every ailment imaginable, so I was counting on that tea to be one of her special concoctions.

After I all but licked my plate clean and forced myself to drink the very bitter tasting tea, I made one last bathroom stop. A stop that somehow ended up with me waking up on the toilet.

I had no idea how long I'd been asleep or how I even dozed off while sitting on the toilet, but now that I was awake, I did feel better. When I exited the bathroom, Hershel and Annette, who were separating leis at the kitchen table, looked up at me.

"Toilet nap?" Hershel asked with a smile.

I groaned as I walked into the kitchen. Another low.

"Your secret's safe with me," he said with a wink.

I gave him a kiss on top of his head.

"Thank you, Annette," I said, giving her a hug.

"You're welcome, sweetie," she said. "Feelin' better?"

"Infinitely," I said appreciatively.

"Good enough to take those sunglasses off?" she asked.

Since the pounding in my head was down to a dull ache and walking no longer felt like burden, I pulled them off. The looks that Annette and Hershel gave me and then exchanged with each other made me put them back on.

"What matters most is that you feel better, dear," Annette said sympathetically.

"Maybe you should have given her a stronger blend of tea," Hershel loudly whispered to Annette.

"That was pretty much the strongest," she loudly whispered back. "Bless her heart."

"At least she's walking straight now," he said, not even bothering to whisper. "You should have seen her. Like a baby giraffe."

I cleared my throat.

Hershel's eyes twinkled with amusement and Annette held in a laugh.

The Greenes were something else.

While the two shared a loving smile, I grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator.

"I can't tell you exactly where Carl is at the moment," Hershel said. "Last I saw him, he was with Daryl. But Rick's setting up tables outside of the barn. The others are floating around here and there."

I drank one of the bottles of water, thanked Hershel and Annette once more, and then headed to the barn.

* * *

I couldn't help but laugh when I saw Rick. He couldn't hear me because he had his headphones in, but he would have understood my laughter if he heard it.

He was wearing the brown shirt I'd given him in his pornstache days. About fifteen years and twenty-something pounds later, that shirt was entirely too tight, but he refused to get rid of it. Daryl and I had laughed at him for at least a decade because of how comically smaller the shirt seemed to get year after year.

The twenty-something pounds that Rick had gained over the years were mostly in the form of muscle, which his shirt seemed to cling to like a second skin. But the shirt was also accentuating an adorable new development on his body. Love handles. I attributed them to the year he'd spent working in a sedentary desk job and to the five pounds he'd gained from his recent ice cream diet.

If circumstances were different, I would have started teasing him mercilessly. Instead, I kept my distance and watched as he pulled out the folding legs of a round table and then moved the table right side up.

Once the table was positioned where he wanted it, he took his baseball cap off and pulled up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. Because he was turned away from me, I got a glimpse of his lower back before he let go of his shirt and put his cap back on. He absentmindedly looked my way before heading over to a stack of foldout chairs, did a double-take, stopped walking, and let out a whistle as he turned to face me.

"Hello, Wonder Woman!" he said with a big smile, pulling out his headphones.

"Good morning, Rick!" I happily greeted him.

His smile faltered just a fraction when I didn't move from where I was standing. We were never the type of friends to shy away from showing affection. Now that we were on good terms again, it didn't go unnoticed that I hadn't also greeted him with a hug.

I know he was wondering if I had reservations about our reconciliation, and I hated to plant that uncertainty in his mind. I was keeping my distance to delay the inevitable though. It wouldn't take him long to figure out the condition I was in.

Prior to this morning, I'd only suffered from two hangovers in my life. Rick had witnessed both. My first was at 14 years old after Rick, Daryl and I discovered one of Merle's alcohol, drug and Playboy magazine stashes. We left the drugs and the porn alone, but stole a bottle of whiskey—although I suspected the boys had gone back for the porn without me at another time. My second hangover was from the night a few years ago when we were banned from a fine establishment after I had a few too many shots.

"You've been busy this morning," I said.

He had already set up six medium-sized round tables and a long farmhouse-style table with two benches.

"I have," he replied, already staring at me suspiciously.

I held up the water bottle. "Thirsty?" I asked.

He nodded in appreciation after I tossed it to him, but he kept his eyes on me as he gulped down most of the water. When he lowered the bottle from his mouth, he was squinting at me.

"So what's next?" I asked, ignoring the squint. "Looks like all of the tables are set up. Should we start unfolding the chairs?"

He set the water bottle down on one of the tables and then looked at his watch.

"It's 9:36," he stated. "I thought you weren't comin' until 12."

"Noon was the time you suggested, not the time I agreed to," I told him.

He stared at me for a beat.

"Where's Mike?" he asked.

"It's just me for now," I said with a half shrug.

He put his hands on his hips and his squint deepened.

 _Shit._

An eye squint paired with a head tilt meant that Rick was about to lose his damn mind, but an eye squint paired with his hands on his hips meant the opposite. Rick's mind was busy calculating and piecing things together.

"What's with the shades?" he asked.

I let out what was probably too dramatic of a sigh.

"It's bright out here, Rick," I said, trying my best to sound exasperated. "If you haven't noticed, there's this star in the sky? Called the sun? Shining down on us as we speak? Hence the shades."

He rolled his eyes and walked over to me, stopping directly in front of me.

"You have somethin' you wanna tell me?" he asked.

When I didn't answer, he pulled my shades off and grimaced when he saw my tired, puffy, bloodshot eyes.

He quickly put the shades back on.

"Jesus, Michonne!" he whisper-shouted, quickly turning a dark shade of red. "Panty Man got you drunk?! The night before Carl's birthday?!"

"Rick, I need you to calm down," I commanded. "I look worse than I feel."

His jaw tensed with anger and his head moved into a full tilt. Although I knew the truth would not go over well, I hoped that it would calm him down at least a little.

"Mike had nothing to do with this," I said. " _I_ drank too much last night. It's 100% on me."

He took a step away from me with a shocked look on his face.

"You chose to get drunk last night?" he asked, turning an even darker shade of red. "Knowin' how important today is?"

"I didn't… I wasn't… I'm sorry," I said, taking a step closer to him and grabbing one of his hands.

He stared at me long and hard before the red started to fade from his face.

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked quietly, fearing that was exactly what he wanted me to do.

He slowly exhaled before answering.

"No, Michonne."

To say I felt relieved would have been an understatement. Not being a part of Nugget's first birthday would have been soul-crushingly devastating.

"Are you too angry for me to be around you right now?" I asked. "I can find Daryl or Gleggie and help one of them."

He stared at me while he gauged his level of irritation.

"Angry? No. Annoyed? Disappointed? Yes," he said. "But stick around. I want you here with me."

I looked down at my hand holding onto his. We'd just moved past annoyance, disappointment, and a few other forms of unpleasantness in our relationship, but in less than 24 hours I'd managed to bring them back into it.

"Are we good?" I asked.

He waited to answer until I looked back up at him. The hardness in his eyes softened.

"You're here," he said without spite. "You're a mess, but you're here. So yeah, we're good."

I gave his hand a quick squeeze.

"There's still a lot to do. You sure you feel up to helpin' out?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I told him. "Annette worked her magic."

"Michonne, Michonne, Michonne," he said, shaking his head. "You stop co-partnerin' for one day and look at you," he joked.

I know he was trying to keep things light between us, but I tensed at this words. There was too much truth in them for me to find any humor.

"We should probably start unfolding the chairs, yes?" I asked, letting his hand go and walking towards the folded stacks.

Rick stopped me before I could take two full steps. "Hey," he said softly. "Is that why you-"

"No," I said defensively. "I was having a good time last night. A really great time, in fact. I just lost track of how much I was drinking."

"Because of the great time you were havin'," he said flatly.

"Yes," I said, crossing my arms. "The really great time."

I knew that he knew I was lying. I was just hoping that he'd let the lie fly.

"Makes no sense that you're a lawyer and such a terrible liar," he said, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and hugging me.

I sighed and leaned into his hug.

My emotions were all over the place. I was relieved that my behavior last night hadn't led to another argument with Rick, but I still felt ashamed to have shown up hungover. I was angry with and disappointed in myself for annoying and disappointing Rick on such an important day. I was more than anxious about what a new relationship with Rick and Nugget was going to look like now that we had redefined our relationship. And I was going to have to reassess whether happy enough with Mike was truly enough to make me happy.

But Rick's embrace steadied me, if only for a moment. I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him back.

"Good mornin'," he whispered.

"Good morning," I whispered back.

I felt his smile, and I hugged him tighter.

"I'm sorry," I told him again.

"I know," he sighed out before kissing the side of my forehead. "We'll talk later?"

I nodded.

"I just need you to do one thang for me," he said as we separated.

"Anything," I said.

"Keep your shades on today," he told me. "At all times."

I cocked my head and put my hands on my hips.

"Are you trying to tell me something, Rick Grimes?" I asked.

"Michonne, you know I think you're beautiful. You've been beautiful to me since the day we met, even after you pushed me down and stole my Tootsie Pop," he said. "But today… keep the shades on."

I'd seen myself; I knew how terrible I looked. I didn't appreciate him pointing it out though.

"I hadn't planned on taking them off, so don't worry about it," I said with an eye roll.

"Good, because you look like hell. I don't want that captured in photos, and I don't want you scarin' Carl or the other kids," he said.

"I got it, Rick."

"I mean it," he said. "You're Night of the Livin' Dead scary, Michonne. Do NOT take those shades off."

"I got it, Rick," I grumbled.

"Oh, and Michonne?" he asked in a tone of voice that I didn't care for at all.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

He pulled my shades down just far enough to be able to look into my eyes.

"Maria's convertible exploded while she was drivin' away from the oil fields… with Javier… who she kidnapped," he said.

I gasped.

"All that was left after the explosion was his bionic hand."

"Did you…" I said slowly. "Did you just spoil the season finale of Pasión de los Cuerpos?"

"Did you just show up to Carl's birthday hungover?" he retorted, pushing my shades back into place.

"You're a monster," I mumbled.

Rick laughed out loud. "Am I?" he asked.

"You know you are," I said. "But I suppose that makes us even."

He scoffed at that notion.

"Oh, Sunshine," he said, cupping my face with both his hands. "Not even close. But I will take great pleasure in knowin' how unpleasant today is gonna be for you. 92 degrees. Not a cloud in the sky. Kidz Bop songs playin' for hours..."

I pulled my face out of his hands.

"You're still on my list, so don't get cocky," I told him.

"Yeah, I know," he said with a cocky smile. "But you're on mine now too."

* * *

We worked together quietly and efficiently to place all the chairs around the tables and to dress all the tables with superhero-themed tablecloths and centerpieces. Once the tables were completely set up, we sat across from each other at the end of the farmhouse table to blow up balloons.

I couldn't help but cheer when Rick brought over a portable helium tank. I was in no mood to blow up balloons by mouth, although I absolutely would have if necessary.

Remarkably, the dull ache in my head was gone. While I was thinking about possible thank you gifts to give Annette, I noticed Rick sneak a glance at me.

"What is it, Rick?" I asked after I noticed him sneak another.

"Nuthin'," he said as he tied off a balloon.

"Really? Don't make me take off these shades," I threatened.

"No!" he shouted with a laugh. "Anythang but that!"

I lightly kicked his feet.

"Well, what is it?" I asked.

"I'm just glad that you're here," he said sincerely.

"I'm glad I'm here too," I told him. "And?" I asked, knowing there was more.

"And outside of this situation," he said, pointing at my shades, "You make a good Wonder Woman."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"The costume's not too tight? Not too short?" I questioned.

Now that the hangover haze had lifted, I was second-guessing this costume. It was starting to feel more fitting for an adults-only Halloween party than a family-friendly first birthday party. The skirt was showing a lot of leg, and the top wasn't leaving much to the imagination when it came to the girls.

Rick started to shake his head no, but then stopped himself.

"Come over here for a second," he said. "Let me see."

"Uh uh. You can see me from right there," I told him.

Even though he was just Rick, the thought of his eyes roaming over my body in this somewhat scanty costume had me feeling self-conscious.

"I can't see all of you, Michonne. Get over here," he pouted.

I groaned but got up.

Rick grinned and swiveled around after I walked to his side of the table. I watched his eyes as they slowly traveled up my body from my red and gold boots. When I remembered the look in his eyes after he took in my sushi outfit last night, my face warmed.

"Not too tight, not too short," he said neutrally once his eyes made it to my face.

His lackluster response was a bit of a letdown, but if he thought my costume was appropriate for the party, then that was what mattered.

His eyes rose to my Wonder Woman headband, and he smiled.

"Wanna trade?" he asked, taking off his cap.

I nodded eagerly.

After I put it on, I was grateful for the additional relief from the sun. After he put the headband on, I couldn't help but to laugh at him again.

"You look ridiculous," I said, sitting down next to him.

"I'm more than happy to look ridiculous for you," he said, bumping my shoulder.

"I'm quite happy to hear that because you look quite ridiculous," I joked.

He smiled and looked out at the tables we'd decorated.

"Just a few more balloons, and I think we'll be done," he said.

He'd made the same comment about 10 minutes ago, but if he wanted more balloons for Nugget, then we'd blow up more balloons.

"So where is he?" he asked as he attached a balloon to the helium tank.

I knew by his tone that he was asking about Mike.

"He had an errand to run."

"An errand? What kind of an errand?" he asked, letting go of the balloon.

"I didn't get the chance to ask. But before he left this morning, he said he'd be here as soon as possible."

Rick's eyebrows raised.

"Before he left this mornin'," he repeated. "He spent the night?"

We stared at each other before I answered.

"He did, but-"

"He spent the night and then disappeared first thang in the mornin'? He's a real class act, Michonne. And if he didn't want to be here today, that's all he had to say," he grumbled.

"If he said he'd be here, then he'll be here, Rick."

He grunted in response.

"And it's not like that," I said.

"Not like what?" he asked with a sour expression.

"Mike slept on the couch," I told him.

It wasn't Rick's business what my sleeping arrangements with Mike were, and we both knew I didn't owe him an explanation. But I felt compelled to let him know what had not transpired last night.

He grunted again.

"Stop grunting," I said with a laugh. "You know that's Daryl's thing."

When he didn't so much as smile, I sighed.

"Do we have a problem?" I asked him.

Rick fidgeted his fingers for a few seconds.

"No, Michonne, we don't have a problem," he said as he stood up. "Just hot and tired I guess. I had a long night with Carl."

"What happened? Is Nugget ok?" I asked, looking around to see if the birthday boy was nearby.

"He's fine. He was just really, really excited to see you yesterday. Took him a while to go to sleep."

I immediately regretted not canceling last night's date night with Mike.

"You should have called me," I said bitingly.

He looked at me in disbelief.

"While you were on a date with Panty Man? I don't think so," he said. "But these are the sort of thangs I have to start workin' out without you, right? I worked it out."

Rick was right. I'd asked him to respect my relationship with Mike, and he had. I'd told him that I was taking a step back, and he was respecting that too. I couldn't fault him for that.

He grabbed the bottom of his shirt to once again wipe sweat from his face. Because he was facing me, I got an eyeful of his abs this time.

I had to stop myself from reaching out and pinching his love handles.

"What are you smilin' at?" Rick asked as he let his shirt go and sat back down.

He straddled the bench so that he was facing me.

"N-Nothing," I stammered.

He looked at me curiously.

"God I'm glad Carl's a boy. Girls are so weird," he said.

"Ha! I think you have forgotten a basic principle from our childhood, Richard," I said, straddling the bench to face him.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" he asked.

"Girls rule and boys drool," I said smiling. "When Nugget grows up and becomes President, it'll be because of my influence."

"President? Nah," he said. "He's gonna grow up and become a member of an elite covert special forces unit that fights terrorism."

I laughed loudly.

"We've gone over this before, Rick. G.I. Joe was not a documentary. Nugget will not be the one to take down Cobra Commander."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said with a bright smile. "We'll see."

After being deprived of Rick's smiling face these past few weeks, I almost felt hypnotized by it. The way his eyes sparkled, the way his dimples-

"Your dimples!" I shouted excitedly, reaching out and rubbing the stubble on his face with my hand. "You have a face again."

"I do," he said with a shy smile. "A mountain man no more. Plus, I couldn't pull off Batman with that beard."

His hand covered mine before he removed it from his face and tugged on it to get me to move closer to him.

I scooted closer and then sighed. I knew what was coming.

"Tell me why you drank so much last night," he said, placing his hands on my outer thighs.

"It's not a big deal," I told him.

"Michonne, talk to me. The last time you got drunk-"

"I know why I got drunk the last time," I said with an eye roll.

"Ok, so what happened this time?" he asked.

The concern in his eyes wore down my resolve to deflect.

"I, uh..." I started to say before a booming voice saved me.

"Are you uh-soles done bein' uh-soles?" Maggie shouted.

Rick and I looked over our shoulders to see Gleggie walking towards us wearing green luau shirts and grass skirts.

"Uh-soles is not going to become a thing, Rick," I said as we stood up.

He shrugged. "You can't control the masses."

I laughed as we walked over to Maggie and Glenn.

"Gleggie!" I squealed excitedly, hugging them both.

"Nice hat," Rick said to Glenn, who was wearing a very stylish wide-brimmed straw hat.

"Nice… forehead crown?" Glenn said to him, looking at the headband.

"So you made up then?" Maggie asked, looking back and forth from me to Rick.

"We did," I said happily. "You won't have to petition the court for joint custody."

Glenn and Rick chuckled, but Maggie's face immediately fell and her lip started to tremble.

"Excuse me for carin'!" she said loudly and on the verge of tears.

I quickly gave her a hug.

"Maggie, stop," I said. "We love that you care so much."

"You better," she pouted.

"You know we do, Mag," Rick added.

"Sorry about that call on Friday, Michonne," Glenn said sheepishly. "We were worried."

"Nothing to be sorry for. It was exactly what I needed."

"What exactly happened on this call?" Rick asked.

"It was like your voicemail, but worse," I told him.

"Worse than that voicemail?" he asked in mock horror.

I started to laugh until I saw the look on Maggie's face.

"Not funny," she said in a dangerously low voice. "You two shut us out with no concern for how we'd feel about that. That's selfish! And you, Michonne, you know how much I need you right now. You're both lucky you just got phone calls."

We really were. Maggie had a temper, but, thankfully, her hormones had left her more weepy than combative as of late.

Before Rick or I could say anything, she continued on.

" _I'm Rick,_ _and I'm mad because Michonne has a boyfriend_. _I'm Michonne, and I'm sad because Rick won't talk to me,"_ she said, doing very poor imitations of Rick and me. "Waa, waa, waa! How can two people be so—"

"Maggie!" Glenn interjected.

They had a silent but heated conversation while Rick and I had a silent conversation of our own. Rick's eyes were doing all the talking since mine were hidden, but I agreed with what he was saying. We had selfishly neglected our friends.

"Fine!" Maggie said to Glenn through clenched teeth.

While she was in the middle of an incredibly long eye roll, Glenn looked at me and Rick and then mouthed "period."

It took everything in me not to rub the bridge of my nose.

"Nice outfit, Michonne," Maggie said grumpily.

"Thanks," I replied slowly.

I knew she liked the costume because she helped me pick it out.

"And your boobs look fantastic," she said with a dark smile before turning her focus to Rick. "Don't they, Rick?"

"Wh-… uh…huh?" he sputtered.

"Michonne's boobs," she said. "Look at 'em. Don't they look fantastic all squeezed together and popped up like that?"

"Maggie!" Glenn exclaimed.

"What?" she asked innocently. "They're just boobs. And Rick and Michonne are just friends. So tell us, Rick… how do your friend's boobs look?"

Since the halter top really was working overtime in the squeezing and lifting department, I expected Rick to make a silly comment. Instead, he blushed and wouldn't look my way.

I decided to change the subject.

"How about we all get together soon?" I suggested. "Grown ups only."

Maggie instantly brightened. Her mood swings were in top form today.

"Mama Mia's? After hours?" she asked. "We could have a theme night! The ladies in fancy dresses! The boys in tuxes!"

Maggie's excitement was contagious. I loved the idea.

"I have been waiting for an opportunity to wear that dress I ordered from Saks," I said as I mentally sorted through my closet.

"The red off-the-shoulder A-line?" she asked.

I shook my head. "The black plunging neckline with the sides cut out," I told her.

"Oh my GOD! I love that dress. If that's what you're wearin', we have to go shoppin'. I need somethin' cute that fits," she said, rubbing her stomach.

Maggie froze when she realized what she had said and what she was doing.

The four of us stood in an awkward silence.

"Wait a second," Glenn said, narrowing his eyes as something dawned on him.

It was about time! He had finally realized that he was going to be a father! I honestly didn't know how many more "she's on her period" explanations I could listen to without grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking some sense into him.

Maggie was still hesitant to tell him about their pregnancy because she was still worried about his reaction. I wasn't sure why. He clearly adored her and would adore their child. And the way he was there for me when I went into labor told me everything I needed to know about how he would be there for her, the woman he was deeply in love with.

Glenn looked down at Maggie whose chest was rapidly rising and falling. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"You want us to dress up? For pizza? That I have to make?" he asked.

Maggie and I looked at each other in shock.

"Yes, Glenn," she answered, quickly recovering. "Pizza, dresses, and tuxedos. That's what we're doin'."

"Just askin," he mumbled.

"Let's get a guest list together next week," Maggie said to me. "Lunch and shoppin'?"

"Absolutely," I agreed. "And we can talk about other things."

Her eyes darted to Glenn and then back to me. "Let me know the time and the place, and I'll be there," she said.

"Hey, have you two met Daryl's friend?" Glenn asked.

I shook my head no.

"Not yet," Rick said. "Daryl won't come over here."

"Well we met her," he said with a shudder. "She's kind of scary."

"Oh, come on, she's not that bad, Glenn," Maggie said, playfully hitting him in the chest. But when she looked at me, her face said, "Yes. Yes she is."

"Speaking of _friends_ , where's Panty Man?" she asked. "Is he not gracin' us with his presence today?"

"He'll be here," I told her. "Later."

"Later?" she questioned loudly. "Glenn and I are bustin' our asses tryin' to get a bounce house inflated and tryin' to keep fake palm trees from fallin' over. But he'll be here later?!"

"Maggie," Glenn groaned.

"This party isn't for some friend of a friend's kid. This is for Carl!" she practically shouted. "And if he cared about what Carl meant to you, he'd be here! Right now!"

"He apparently had an errand to run this mornin'," Rick said, using air quotes when he said errand. "Got Michonne drunk last night too."

"That fucker!" Maggie shouted.

"He didn't get me drunk, and Rick knows that," I said, shooting him daggers that he couldn't see because of my shades.

"He's still a fucker," Maggie said with a shrug. "Well, get us when he gets here. Unless he only wants to spend time with Rick again," she teased.

Rick grunted.

"Glenn, give Michonne your hat," she ordered.

Glenn and I looked at her in confusion.

"More coverage from the sun than that cap," she explained. "Just swap with each other."

Rick didn't care about Glenn wearing his cap, so Glenn and I exchanged headware. Maggie was right. The straw hat was the much better option for hangover recovery.

Once Glenn put on the baseball cap, the three of us started teasing him. He was in his early 30s, but his inability to grow facial hair kept him looking very young. The cap made him look downright adolescent—more like a pizza delivery boy than the man who was making the pizzas and running the business.

"Ok, come on, Glenn. Let's go," Maggie suddenly demanded. "I'm hungry."

"But you just ate," he said slowly with a bewildered expression.

Her green eyes flashed.

"I'm. Hungry," she repeated.

"Then let's find you something to eat," he told her, brushing her hair back from her face and then kissing her sweetly on the lips.

She smiled up at him and he smiled down at her as if they were the only two people standing here.

"Bye, guys!" Maggie cheerfully said to me and Rick. "We'll be on bouncy house duty if you need us."

Rick gave Glenn a friendly pat on his back as Gleggie walked away holding hands.

"Rick, that shirt's too tight!" Maggie shouted over her shoulder.

I smirked at him.

"And daddy told me about your toilet nap!" she shouted to me.

The Greenes really were something else.

"Toilet nap?" Rick asked.

"No idea what she's talking about," I replied, walking back to our balloon station and ignoring Maggie's cackling.

"Uh huh," he said, walking with me. "So Glenn doesn't have a clue that Maggie's expectin'?"

I didn't answer.

"I guess that list of daycares she gave me makes sense now," he said.

I kept my lips sealed. It was Maggie's news to share.

"I know you know, Michonne. You and Maggie are thick as thieves," he prodded.

"I plead the fifth," I said, sitting down at the table. "Now let's finish blowing these balloons up."

Rick did a little happy dance before he sat down.

"Another baby in the family!" he said gleefully.

I smiled at his enthusiasm and thought about how Nugget and baby Gleggie were going to be the very best of friends.

* * *

Rick and I were admiring our decorating efforts when Beth, looking very much like a farmer's daughter in her denim overall shorts, a red and white checkered tank top and a cowboy hat, stopped by with Nugget.

"Birthday boy!" Rick said, taking him from Beth and giving him a kiss.

"Sorry he's wet. Daryl just ran through the sprinklers with him," she said, giving me a hug. "And sorry he's so sticky. Maggie let him eat leftover frostin' from the cakes."

"Dadu! Craw joo may brah lis do cha mert fafa pfft dur tox wee pree sho jin hapa mo chacha!" Nugget jabbered away nonstop.

"How much frostin' did he have?" Rick asked Beth as he handed Nugget to me.

"A lot," Beth said.

"Hi, Nugget!" I exclaimed, holding him up in the air. "Happy birthday, sweetheart!"

"Muh! Muh!" Nugget screamed loudly.

He was all giggles and all hands once he was in my arms. He mashed my cheeks together with his sticky fingers to get kisses. He pulled at the top of my halter top and drummed on my chest. He tried to pull off my shades. He reached for the brim of the straw hat. He tugged on my locs.

He would not stop squirming.

"Nugget, calm down, baby," I whispered, hoping my voice would have a calming effect.

He shrieked, clapped his hands, and giggled even more.

I was going to kill Maggie. He was on a sugar high and the party hadn't even started.

I gave him a once-over and shook my head when I saw the remnants of frosting behind his ears, in his hair, and in between his toes. But I couldn't help but smile when the S emblem on his swim trunks caught my eye.

"Superman swim trunks?" I asked Rick.

He shrugged. "Batman's my thang, I know Superman is yours."

I grinned at him until Nugget grabbed my nose and giggled.

"I know you wanted a horse, Rick, but daddy thought it'd be safer to just go with babies for the pettin' zoo," Beth said.

"Makes sense. The horse was more for me anyways," he laughed. "What's that leave us with?"

"Chicks and piglets!" she excitedly announced.

"I'm sure the kiddos will love that," he told her, ruffling Nugget's hair.

"You wanna go see the baby chickies, Carl?" Beth asked Nugget.

I held onto him a little tighter and slightly turned away from her.

"Are you serious?" she asked me. "You're such a Carl hog!"

"I am not," I said without much conviction. I knew that I was.

"You are. That's why everyone's tryin' to spend time with him now. Once his birthday actually starts, you won't let anyone hold him. Except for Rick. Maybe," she said.

"That is not true," I said without much conviction. I knew it was true.

"Me and Carl were just stoppin' by to say hi anyways," she said. "Will you hand him back over?"

I looked at Rick, but he held up his hands as if to say he wasn't getting involved.

"Fine, Bethanne," I sighed, giving Nugget a kiss.

Beth narrowed her eyes at my use of her full name. I was probably going to regret that.

"I'll see you in a little while, ok?" I promised Nugget.

"Jo bot ort no no," he said before giving me a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

"Hold on," Beth said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "Let me take a picture first."

Rick stood next to me and put his arm around my shoulder, and I adjusted Nugget so that he was positioned between us.

"Alright. One… two… three," Beth counted off before taking a picture.

Rick and I laughed at the image. Nugget was grabbing at my hat, I was trying to move my head out of his reach, and Rick was smiling at the camera.

"A blessin' and a curse to look this good," Rick said.

I rolled my eyes, but Rick did look good. Really good.

"You look absurd in that damn brown shirt and headband," I told him instead.

"Language," he said with a smile. "And you don't look too far from absurd yourself wearin' that hat with that costume."

I playfully grunted.

"There's more pics," Beth said, taking her phone from me to show them to us. "Here's Carl and Glenn."

Nugget was sitting on Glenn's shoulders and wearing Glenn's straw hat, which completely swallowed his head.

"Here's Carl and Maggie."

Maggie and Nugget were sharing a giant spoon of frosting. They both had frosting around their mouths, but their matching looks of delight were priceless.

"Here's Carl and Daryl."

Daryl had somehow fit his large body into a very tiny kiddie pool, although most of his body hung over it. Nugget was sprawled across Daryl's stomach and happily splashing his hand in the water.

"Have you met his girlfriend?" Beth asked.

"We haven't," I answered.

"She's a little…" Beth paused, searching for the right word.

"Glenn mentioned scary," Rick said.

"Yeah," she agreed, nodding. "That's it."

Rick and I looked at each other to discuss whether we were more intrigued or alarmed. We were more intrigued at the moment.

"Here's daddy and Annette with Carl," she said.

Hershel and Annette were sitting at the kitchen table and smiling at Nugget. He was sitting on top of the table with about five leis around his neck and was reaching for another.

"And here's Carl with his daddy from earlier this mornin'."

The picture was beautiful. Rick and Nugget were walking together side by side. Rick's face screamed proud papa, and the giddy look on Nugget's face was too precious for words.

"No hands, Michonne," Rick whispered. "He walked all by himself for five whole steps."

I tried not to get choked up. My precious little Nugget was officially a walker.

Rick comfortingly rubbed my lower back, and I gave Nugget another kiss.

"I'll text you guys the photos later, ok?" she said, taking Nugget from me.

"Thanks, Beth," Rick said.

"And, Michonne," Beth said with narrowed eyes. "I'm glad you're feelin' better. Daddy told me about your baby giraffe problem."

She laughed as she walked away, causing Nugget to erupt into giggles.

The Greenes really, really were something else.

"Baby giraffe problem?" Rick asked.

"No idea what she's talking about," I said. "Don't you need to go shower and transform yourself into Batman?"

"I have some time," he said after looking at his watch. "We still have an hour or so before the party starts. Besides, my costume's not that complicated. Shorts, a Batman tshirt, and a Batman eye mask."

I pulled my shades down and gave him a look.

"What?" he asked, laughing. "I forgot to order the actual suit in time. I had to improvise. But some of the other parents will have costumes on, so you won't be the only one. Now put the shades back on."

"Should we go find Daryl and his scary friend then?" I asked excitedly, pushing my shades back into place.

"Nah," he said. "Daryl will bring her around when he's ready."

I frowned at him. Of course he wouldn't want to spy on Daryl. Times like this, I needed Maggie.

"What should we do then, Rick?" I asked, trying not to sound too perturbed.

He looked at me with a boyish smile. "Tree swings?"

I looked at the enormous tree across from us with two swings hanging from a thick branch.

"You know I could never resist a tree swing," I said with a smile of my own.

* * *

Rick and I swung back and forth, looking out at the party coming to life in front of us.

"Huh," he said contemplatively.

"Hmm," I concurred.

Between our superhero-themed dining area, Gleggie's Hawaiian-themed bounce house, Daryl's mini water park, and Beth's petting zoo, there was a lot going on.

"Maybe next year we stick with one theme?" he laughed.

"Maybe so," I agreed.

We swung back and forth in a comfortable silence. Today was going to be an incredible day.

"You never told me about the day Carl was born," Rick said quietly, breaking the silence. "About what it was like. Your water breakin', contractions, labor."

I turned my head to look at him, but our swinging was off, so I only saw the back of his head.

"You never asked, Rick," I said as I caught his eye when I was swinging forward and he was swinging back.

"I'm askin' now," he said, coming to a stop.

I slowed my swinging down until I came to a stop as well.

"I missed his birth," he said sadly, kicking his foot into the dirt. "I regret that every day. I should've been there to see him come into the world, to support you. But I was chasin' Lori. Lookin' for someone who didn't want to be found."

I rubbed his thigh. I knew that missing Nugget's birth would be something that always haunted him, but I was overjoyed that he was finally asking about the most important moment of our lives. It was an experience that I very much wanted to share with him.

"I never asked how that day was for you either," I said quietly. "How everything unfolded."

At the time, I knew all that I needed to know: Lori had abandoned her family. Other than wanting to read the letter she'd written him, I had no interest in wanting to understand, excuse, justify or further discuss her abandonment. But now that I was able to see more than just red when I thought about Lori and what she had done, I was curious about that day from Rick's perspective.

Rick covered my hand with his and then interlocked his fingers with mine.

"But let's discuss it tomorrow," I told him. "Let's just enjoy today for what it is—a glorious celebration of the most amazing little boy known to mankind."

"Fair enough," he said was a smile.

"Anyways, I'm pretty sure you don't want me to go lawyer on you over your empty promises," I told him.

"Empty promises?" he asked.

"My fancy new phone. My vaginal rejuvenation," I said.

He rolled his eyes.

"I thought we agreed your vagina was a lost cause because of all the previous wear and tear," he argued. "And I tried to give you a phone."

"Richard Arthur Grimes, we most certainly did not agree to that nonsense about my vagina. And a refurbished Motorola Moto X did not cut it. I explicitly said a fancy new phone."

"It was re-fur-bished, Michonne," he said with a shrug. "Good as new."

Rick's technological shortcomings really did disappoint me.

I was just giving him a hard time about the empty promises though. I'd replaced and upgraded my old phone almost immediately after I broke it, and my vagina had eventually gotten her groove back.

"You're lucky I like you so much," I teased.

"Extremely," he agreed, kissing the back of my hand and then bringing our hands down to rest near his heart.

He sighed contentedly before checking his watch.

"Looks like it's time for me to get goin'," he said, standing up. "I must become Batman."

I looked up at him and then started laughing.

"What?" he asked, still holding onto my hand.

"That was terrible," I told him as he helped me up. "When you say batman, you have to say it in a lower, huskier voice."

"I'm Batman," he tried again.

"No, it's… _I'm_ _Batman_ ," I said.

" _I'm_ _Batman_ ," he repeated.

"Wait, which Batman are you channeling? Keaton? Affleck? Clooney? Bale?" I asked.

"Keaton," he replied, looking mildly insulted that I would even question that.

"Say it one more time?" I requested.

"I'm Batman," he said.

"I suppose that's respectable enough for one-year-olds," I told him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, gently tugging on a loc.

He stood in front of me, making no moves to head to Hershel's house.

"You mind if I take these off?" he asked, letting go of my hand and reaching for the straw hat.

Before I could shake my head no, he removed it and then pulled off my shades. I waited for the joke about how terrifying I looked, but it never came.

This was actually the first time all day that we'd looked at each other for so long without my shades coming between us. It was nice. But the way he was looking at me was also making me nervous.

"What is it?" I asked anxiously.

"Thank you," he said, putting me at ease. "For everythang. Always."

"You're welcome, Rick. And thank you for trusting me with him, even though I had no experience with babies and had no idea what I was doing," I said teasingly.

He smiled at me and then gently cupped the left side of my face with his right hand, gently moving his thumb up and down my cheek.

"I got you somethin'," he said softly.

He let go of my face and handed me the hat and the shades so that he could reach into his pocket. He pulled something out but kept it hidden from my view.

"Today's not just special because it's Carl's birthday," he said huskily. "It's special because of what you did for us. It's special because of you, Michonne."

He held up a gold necklace with a letter M charm attached.

"Rick," I gasped.

I turned around so that he could put the necklace on, and when it was fastened, I turned back to face him.

"It's beautiful, Rick," I whispered. "Thank you."

"You like it?" he asked, adjusting the M so that it laid in the middle of my chest.

"I love it," I told him.

The smile he gave me, which was so bright and so full, made my heart contract. That smile drew me to him until we stood together, almost chest to chest, breathing in sync. His face had grown serious, although his eyes still held the warmth of that smile.

I looked at his lips and then looked back into his eyes, feeling myself getting lost in the blueness of them.

A slow smile spread over his face as he gently caressed my cheek again and then tilted my chin up.

"Rick!" Daryl shouted. "Hey, Rick!"

We jumped and stepped away from each other.

"Rick!" Daryl shouted again.

I put the hat and my shades back on right as Daryl ran up to us. He took a few seconds to catch his breath before he stood in front of Rick and firmly grabbed his shoulders.

"I need you to stay calm, man," Daryl said in a very steady voice.

Daryl wasn't one for theatrics, so Rick and I both knew something was very, very wrong. Rick squinted and tried to free himself from Daryl's grip, but Daryl wouldn't release him. Rick tried to look around Daryl, but he wouldn't allow him to do that either.

I looked out to see what Daryl was shielding Rick from.

 _Mike._

Mike was confidently striding towards us, but something seemed off. It wasn't that he decided to wear a suit and tie to a one-year-old's outdoor birthday party—I'd never seen him dress casually in public, so I honestly didn't expect him to wear a costume. What seemed off was the look on his face.

The self-assuredness that normally dwelled there was replaced by a disturbingly smug expression.

 _What have you done, Mike?_

And then I knew.

In the blink of an eye, I saw just a hint of long, brown hair behind him before it disappeared.

I knew that hair.

"'Chonne!" Daryl shouted.

But I was already on the move.

It couldn't be. It just couldn't. Not today.

I breezed past Mike, tuning out whatever it was that he was saying.

And there she was.

Lori Grimes. In the flesh.

Her audacity brought me to an abrupt stop.

"Michonne," she said crisply, clearly displeased by my presence. "I'm here to see Rick and Jr."

My hands were shaking.

She didn't even know Carl's name.

The last thing I heard before my rage propelled me towards her was Daryl shouting, "Asshole, grab Michonne!"

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! Chapter 13: Bitches Be Crazy (part 2) is coming soon! Lori's ass will be trifling AF. lol.**


	13. Bitches Be Crazy (part 2)

**A/N: Enjoy!**

* * *

 **13\. Bitches Be Crazy (part 2)**

Rage.

I thought I knew what it was before today.

I thought I'd felt it before.

I was wrong.

In that instance when Lori uttered Rick's name and when she so ignorantly referred to Nugget as "Jr.", rage and I were properly introduced for the first time.

Every last one of my pores felt like they were on fire.

I welcomed the burn.

My rage had awakened a primal need within me to break Lori in every way possible, starting with physically. I needed her to feel all of the chaos, the anger, the anguish, the sadness, the heartache, the strife, the insecurity that she had left behind in the wake of her disappearing act.

I had only one decision to make: Choke or punch.

My hands balled into tight fists.

Punch it was.

When I was finally close enough for my right cross to land, for that blow to give Lori the first taste of my rage, I took a steadying breath and focused all of my energy into my fist.

And then I let out a very surprised gasp when I felt myself being lifted off the ground and carried away from Lori.

"Dickhead, what don't you understand about 'grab Michonne'?" Daryl barked at Mike.

"Daryl!" I shouted as I tried to free myself from his arm tightly secured around my waist. "Let go!"

He grunted and kept walking.

I was beyond livid as I watched the fear on Lori's face turn into a smirk.

"I don't believe I've yet had the pleasure to make your acquaintance, Daryl," I heard Mike say with a slight edge in his voice.

Daryl stopped walking and turned to look at Mike.

I kept my eyes on Lori and continued to try to break free from Daryl's hold.

"Who is this prick?" Daryl asked.

"Daryl Vernon Dixon, put me down!" I demanded.

"Some things never change," Lori said dryly. "Still the same Daryl. Still the same Michonne."

Daryl turned his head to look at Lori.

There was no love lost between Daryl and Lori, which made his refusal to let me go even more infuriating. But because he was only wearing his swim shorts, I could feel how fast his heart was beating. I could feel how close he was to losing control.

Lori had a way of bringing out the worst in all of us.

Daryl slowly walked us towards her, making sure to angle his body so that he was the barrier between me and her.

"You're right. Some shit doesn't change," he said gruffly. "You're still the same Florida trash who was never good enough for Rick. Never will be."

She pursed her lips and glared at him.

I squirmed more aggressively to try to free myself from him.

"Hey, guys!" I heard Maggie shout. "What's goin' on over here?"

"You should leave," Daryl growled to Lori. "You're not welcome here."

Her brown eyes had iced over but they thawed when she looked away from Daryl. She had to be looking at Rick.

"We'll see about that," she said, briskly walking past us.

"Daryl!" I pleaded.

His hold on me only tightened.

I kicked out at Lori as she passed by, but my feet hit air.

She stopped to glare at me.

"Whatever you've been doin' with my family, you can stop now. Your services are no longer required," she said coldly before walking away.

I stopped struggling against Daryl.

I shouldn't have allowed them to, but her words shook me to my core. They so closely mirrored what I'd said to Rick when we argued a few weeks ago...

" _But I can't help but to feel like I'm acting as a seat warmer, Rick. That once she comes back… you'd have what you've been waiting for since she left. That you'd have your real family..."_

Lori believed that Rick was hers. She believed that Nugget was hers. She believed that I no longer served a purpose in their lives.

 _Your services are no longer required._

I was defenseless against her words as they burrowed into me.

But just as panic started to spread through my chest, a whisper of a thought floated through my mind.

 _Mine._

That possessive little four-letter word was strong enough to pull me from the panic, but too faint for me grasp once my rage came roaring back.

I started to struggle against Daryl again.

"Still fucking crazy," Daryl muttered.

"Perhaps you should unhand Michonne, friend," Mike said in a quietly commanding voice.

Daryl let out an agitated sigh.

"And if I don't, _friend_?" he challenged, turning back towards Mike.

I whipped my head around to keep my eyes on Lori.

"I assure you that I am more than proficient in Georgia laws and statutes," Mike boasted. "Unlawful restraint is a criminal offense. It is prosecutable."

"I'm fine, Mike," I insisted, continuing to watch Lori.

"Hold up! This asshole is Panty Man?!" Daryl asked in disbelief, loosening his hold on me.

Before I could escape, he quickly locked me into place again.

"Daryl!" I shouted in exasperation.

Maggie, who'd made her way over to us, looked curiously at me, Daryl, and Mike before addressing Lori.

"Who're you?" she asked bluntly.

When Lori continued walking without acknowledging her, Maggie shot an annoyed glance my way and caught up to Lori.

"Let's try this again," Maggie said as she blocked Lori's path. "Who. Are. You?"

"Not. Your. Concern," Lori replied.

Maggie's eyes narrowed.

"I don't know you, Daryl. You don't know me. Perhaps you'd be more comfortable having this conversation with an officer of the law," Mike suggested.

I knew that Daryl's first instinct would be to laugh at Mike's overt threat.

What Mike had forgotten, or ignored, was that Rick was an officer of the law. What Mike didn't know was that Daryl worked with officers of the law on a daily basis, three of whom were members of his motorcycle club.

I knew that Daryl's second instinct would be to make Mike pay for making the threat in the first place.

"You threatenin' me?" he asked with a cold intensity in his voice.

"Well that sign you passed under when you drove onto this property—the sign that says Hershel Greene's Farm? That's my daddy. This is his land. Private property, bitch," Maggie said to Lori. "So you see? It is my concern."

I heard Lori's sharp intake of breath.

"Because I really, really don't respond well to assholes threatenin' me," Daryl informed Mike. "That really, really pisses me off."

"Daryl, calm down!" I ordered, feeling how fast his heartbeat was racing again.

"You tryin' to piss me off, motherfucker?" Daryl asked Mike.

"With all due respect to you and your daddy, I'm here to speak with Rick Grimes. You're not Rick," Lori said tersely, attempting to walk past Maggie.

Maggie sidestepped, continuing to block Lori's path.

"Move aside," Lori demanded.

My eyes followed Maggie's as she looked at Rick standing by the tree swings with Glenn. I couldn't read Rick's facial expression from so far away, but he was pacing.

Although Glenn was keeping Rick calm enough, I knew that my words would keep him calmer. And I wanted to be by his side. I really did.

But I wanted to punch Lori more.

"Your juvenile name-calling will neither distract nor deter me from insisting that you release Michonne," Mike said to Daryl. "You are about to make this situation unnecessarily complicated for yourself."

"Mike, I said I'm fine!" I shouted distractedly over my shoulder.

"You need to stop talkin', Panty Man," Daryl warned Mike.

Because of what was unfolding between Maggie and Lori, I couldn't give my full attention to what was unfolding between Daryl and Mike. If something flared-up between them, Mike was on his own.

"Doesn't seem like Rick is interested in talkin' to you," Maggie said to Lori, crossing her arms.

"I really don't care what anything _seems like_ to you," Lori snarled. "Move."

Maggie, whose face was rapidly changing from irritated to outraged, and Lori, whose face was more than likely twisted into some type of scowl, seemed to be locked in a stare down.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time," Maggie said slowly. "Who are you?"

And then Maggie took a step closer to Lori.

 _Shit!_

Prior to meeting Glenn, Maggie admitted that she had a bit of a bad girl reputation born from her love of "brawlin', boozin', and bad boys." She wasn't ashamed of it. She owned up to the life choices she made during that period of time.

But the day she met Glenn, whose kindness and goodness made her genuinely smile for the first time in a very long time, she was inspired to be better, to want more for herself. She happily gave up those wild ways and replaced them with something more meaningful. She didn't miss the bad boys because she found a happiness and stability with Glenn that none of the bad boys were able to provide. She didn't miss drinking to excess because the high that she sought from alcohol was something she now experienced naturally.

But the fighting? She really did miss the fighting. If someone needed to be put in his or her place, she enjoyed being the one to do it.

Glenn regularly coached her on how to avoid and resolve conflict by using her words rather than her hands... or her elbows... or her legs... or her feet... or her forehead… or her teeth… or any of her other body parts. And while she appreciated learning how to express herself assertively, she still felt that itch to fight whenever she thought she was wronged by someone.

If not for the life growing inside of her, I would have encouraged Maggie to scratch that itch with Lori, but putting baby Gleggie's safety at risk was not an option.

My mindset quickly shifted to defuse mode.

"D," I said, tapping his arm to try to draw his attention from Mike.

I needed to convince Maggie to be anywhere but here right now. If she found out who Lori was, I wasn't certain that I could talk her down from a fight. I was concerned that she would recognize Lori from the picture on the mantle in Rick's house, but there wasn't a hint of recognition in Maggie's eyes.

My deescalation chances were good.

"That's Lori Grimes," Mike suddenly offered. "Rick's wife. The mother of his child."

His outburst rendered me speechless.

"What the hell?" Daryl grumbled under his breath before turning towards Maggie.

She looked at us with her mouth hanging open.

Lori, taking advantage of Maggie's shock, bumped past her and continued her march to Rick.

"Fuck!" I grumbled once I regained my ability to speak.

As Maggie's shock started to wear off, I began to worry about what she would do next. "Mag? Why don't you-"

"So you're not gonna let Michonne go," Maggie said to Daryl in a calm voice. A voice that was entirely too calm for someone with so much venom dancing in her eyes.

Before Daryl or I could respond, Maggie nodded her head as if she had come to an understanding.

"It's ok," she said with a scary smile. "I got this bitch."

And then with a quickness I didn't expect, she caught up to Lori, grabbed her hair from behind, and yanked. Hard.

Lori screamed out in pain as her body bent backwards.

"Damn," Daryl said in awe, dropping his arm from around my waist.

I rushed over to Maggie.

"Maggie!" I shouted. "Don't do this."

"Don't do what?" she asked me with a look of confusion. She tightened her grip on Lori's hair. "Don't beat her ass?"

"Yeah, that. Don't do that," I said.

I couldn't believe what I was requesting. Maggie look like she couldn't believe it either.

"Maggie!" Glenn yelled out as he and Rick ran towards us.

"I don't understand," Maggie slowly said to me. "Isn't this Lori? THE Lori?"

"That's her," I said, hearing the contempt in my voice.

"Then I still don't understand," she said. "What's the problem?"

Lori clawed at Maggie's wrist, but Maggie forcibly pulled her to the ground by her hair.

"Don't," Maggie threatened.

"Maggie," Glenn panted out once he and Rick made it over to us. "What are you doing? Use… use your words."

"I love you, Glenn, but no," Maggie told him.

"Lori?" Rick whispered in disbelief.

"You," I said, pointing at Rick. "Stay out of this. And you," I said, pointing at Maggie. "You need to stop."

"No!" Maggie shouted. "Didn't she abandon her family? Y _our_ family that's now _my_ family?"

"She did," I answered.

"And how many times did we talk about this? About what you would do if she came back?" she asked.

"Countless times," I admitted.

Lori whimpered.

"The moment is here, Michonne. The time is now," she said somewhat dramatically. "And I'm callin' dibs."

"But, Maggie-" I began.

"No!" she shouted again. "What she did as a wife, as a friend, as a… it's unforgivable. And she has a major attitude problem. And," she said, looking down at Lori. "I. Don't. Like. Her. I can't not beat her ass, Michonne."

Lori whimpered again.

"Maggie, you don't want to do this. Violence won't solve anythang," Rick tried to reason with her.

"I told you to stay out of this!" I snapped at him.

Although he had used his sheriff's deputy tone of voice rather than a concerned husband's tone of voice, the idea of him helping Lori in any capacity did not sit well with me.

"Rick!" Lori called out.

"Shut up!" Maggie, Daryl and I shouted at her.

"So it's decided. I'm kickin' her ass," Maggie said with a shrug.

"Maggie, stop! You can't do this," I pleaded with her.

She narrowed her eyes at me.

"This isn't about you! This isn't about me. It's not about her," I said sharply. "It's not! You have someone else to think about. So start thinking about that someone else right now!"

The indignation on Maggie's face started to fade as she processed what I was saying. She glanced down at her stomach and then immediately released Lori's hair.

When she looked up, her mouth was once again hanging open. "I would never do anythang to hurt..." she said to me, placing her hand on her stomach.

"I know, Maggie," I said. "That's why you need to walk away."

Maggie looked crestfallen as she stepped over Lori and started walking to Glenn.

"What happened to using your words, babe?" Glenn asked compassionately.

"I-" was all she got out before Lori stood up and shoved her from behind.

I watched in horror as Maggie stumbled forward. Thankfully, Glenn caught her before she fell. Without thinking, I rushed over to Lori and forcefully slammed her back down to the ground.

She cried out in pain when she landed roughly on her tail bone.

"She's pregnant!" I shouted down at her.

Once Maggie's secret flew from my mouth, everyone became unnaturally quiet.

"Glenn?" a soft voice called out.

Hershel was making his way towards us on his crutches, probably to investigate what all the commotion was. He stopped and looked questioningly at Glenn.

"Maggie?" Glenn asked, looking at her with a bewildered expression on his face.

"Michonne," Maggie whispered in fear, looking at me.

"You're..." Glenn said to Maggie.

When she wouldn't look at him, he looked at me.

"She's..." he said to me.

I ignored Maggie's terrified eyes and nodded at Glenn.

My nod, a confirmation of his new status in life, was like a jolt to his senses. He let Maggie go and backed away from her, from all of us, and walked towards the house in a stupor.

Maggie's face crumbled as he walked away. Uncertain of what to do, she looked at me, Daryl, and then Rick in a panic. When she looked at Hershel, her tears started to fall.

"Daddy," she sobbed, running over to him and wrapping her arms around him.

Unable to hold her because of his crutches, he rested his head against hers as she cried on his shoulder. After he whispered something into her ear, she nodded, wiped her tears, and hugged him again. Hershel gave her a kiss on her cheek before she chased after Glenn.

As Hershel watched his daughter jog away, he wobbled on his crutches. Rick was there in a flash to make sure he didn't fall.

"I didn't know," Lori whined from the ground. "Rick, I didn't know! If I had known I never would have touched her. I'm a mother now, too!"

 _Unbelievable._

First, she shows up at Nugget's birthday party. Then, she attacks Maggie. And now, she utters the M word.

I felt myself being ushered into a new category of rage, but before I could give in to it, Daryl pulled me back by my wrist.

"Anger makes you stupid, right?" he asked.

"She's not his mother," I said to him through gritted teeth.

And then Lori buried her face in her hands and started crying.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

"Daryl!" Rick called out.

Daryl and I both looked over at him. He gestured for Daryl to come over and then pointed at Hershel. Daryl nodded.

"Rick's comin' over here. You good?" he asked me.

I stared at Lori.

"Are you good?" he asked again.

"You can let go," I told him, keeping my eyes on Lori.

When he didn't, I looked away from her and looked at him. There was an understanding in his eyes that I hadn't expected to see.

"She's not his mother, 'Chonne," he said as he let go of my wrist. "Rick knows that. We all do."

I wanted to be comforted by his words, but he knew as well as I did how Lori affected Rick. Although Rick wasn't the lovesick fool from a year ago, he also had not yet had his 'I can do better by myself' epiphany.

His vulnerability made Lori dangerous.

After Daryl took Rick's place by Hershel's side, I anxiously clutched the M charm on my necklace as Rick walked over. I felt his gaze on me, but I avoided it. If his eyes were communicating anything other than animosity for Lori, I would without question allow anger to make me stupid.

"Rick," Lori said softly, sniffling.

I cringed.

The way that she said his name, as if it somehow belonged to her, was like fingernails on chalkboard to my ears. But it got Rick's attention and I felt his gaze shift away from me.

I steeled myself and watched their reunion.

Lori was sitting up on her knees, and though there was an impressive amount of sniffling coming from her, I had yet to witness any tears actually fall.

Rick stood in front of her, keeping his distance.

And he was squinting.

 _Tilt your head, Rick. Tilt your head, Rick. Tilt your head, Rick._

Instead, he ran his hand down his face and then looked at Lori expressionlessly. Expressionless was too far removed from anger as far as I was concerned. Expressionless meant the door was open for forgiveness and acceptance to settle in.

She held out her hand so that he could help her up.

I closed my eyes and turned away from them.

This all seemed so surreal, yet so very, very predictable.

I knew where things were headed.

I felt myself start to shake.

 _Breathe._

 _Breathe, Michonne._

 _Breathe._

When I was no longer shaking, I opened my eyes.

Mike, who had fallen off my radar once things escalated between Maggie and Lori, fell into my line of sight. The uneasy calm I'd just found was shattered.

The only thing stopping me from being lit up by rage was the troubled look on his face as he watched Rick and Lori. I expected to see nothing less than unabashed glee as he took them in.

Them. Rick and Lori.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose and groaned.

"Are you ok?" I heard Rick ask.

 _Un-fucking-believeable!_

When we reminisced about Nugget's first birthday in the days or months or years to come, our happy memories would forever be eclipsed by the bedlam that Lori brought with her.

Yet Rick was asking her about her well-being.

After everything, she still had him wrapped around her finger.

After everything, he wanted to be wrapped around her finger.

My rage burned out.

Weariness took its place.

My desire to damn near kill Lori conflicted with Rick's unshakeable commitment to her.

I had no choice but to accept that my place in this Rick and Lori story had come to an end.

I would never support their reconciliation, but I was done fighting with Rick about her.

I was done picking up his broken pieces.

I was done.

My only concern was Nugget. Lori would undoubtedly try to prevent me from seeing him, but I-

"Hey," I heard Rick say as he gently grabbed hold of one of my elbows. "Michonne, are you ok?"

I flinched at his touch, completely surprised by it.

"Huh?" was all I could sputter out as I turned to face him.

"Are you ok?" he asked again.

My eyes shifted to Lori.

She was still sitting in the dirt.

 _Huh?_

I pulled off my shades and carefully studied Rick. When I saw that his concern was for my well-being, I couldn't help but to throw my arms around his neck and hug him tight.

"Cuz I'm not doin' ok right now," he whispered.

"I know, Rick," I said softly.

He let out a shaky breath.

"How?" he asked.

"Because I'm not doing ok either," I whispered into his ear, hugging him tighter.

I caught Lori staring at us as she got up off of the ground unassisted. She patted the dirt off her clothes with her lips pinched together in frown formation.

I was petty enough to smile at her, but I kept my eyes on her in case she felt the urge to attack.

"Daddy!" Beth frantically shouted as she ran over to Hershel. "Maggie's cryin' and Glenn's upset. What happened?"

I stepped back from Rick. There was a storm of emotions brewing in his eyes, so I told him the only thing that felt right.

"You got this," I said confidently.

He let out another shaky breath and then hooked his pinky finger around mine.

"Pregnant!" Beth squealed in delight.

I gave Rick's pinky a quick squeeze and then put my shades back on. I tried to keep my face neutral, but Rick was already reading me.

"What is it?" he asked.

I wouldn't admit it to him, but I was about to take great pleasure in whatever unpleasant interaction Beth was going to have with Lori. Beth wasn't as easily triggered as Maggie when it came to fighting, but she was fiercely protective of her older sister.

There was no way that Beth was walking away from Lori without leaving a mark.

"What!" Beth screeched. "Who?"

I watched Hershel nod his head in Lori's direction.

Beth took a few steps towards her.

"You pushed down my sister?" Beth asked incredulously. "My pregnant sister?"

Lori started to back away slowly. Before she could come up with an empty apology or a nonsensical excuse, Beth tackled her to the ground.

I tried to contain my joy, but I think I may have snorted.

"Really, Michonne?" Rick asked.

Ever the sheriff's deputy, he sprung into action and pulled Beth off of Lori. He had little trouble carrying her away as she screamed out obscenities and threats.

The Greenes really, truly were something else.

"Told you!" Daryl shouted. "You aren't welcome here!"

I was enjoying the view of Lori curled into a fetal position when I felt Mike's hand on my elbow. I jerked away from his touch and whipped around to face him.

"Michonne," he said with an uncharacteristic hint of nervousness in voice. "It was not my intention-"

I held up my hand to silence him.

"When you were on the phone last night at Blue Fish, on our date night, you were on the phone with _her_?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"This morning when you left, it was to get _her_?" I asked.

"Yes."

"When you were on your business trip, you were in Florida to find _her_?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "However, my intentions-"

The sound of my palm cracking against his cheek rang out. I gave him a cold stare before walking over to Daryl and Hershel.

"And on that note, I think it's best that you two get off my property," Hershel said in a raised voice. "Immediately."

"I have been assaulted!" Lori screeched as she sat up.

"If I have to repeat myself, I will consider you two to be trespassers," Hershel continued, ignoring her. "And I will let my shotgun take over this conversation. Do we understand each other?"

"We understand," Mike said, rubbing his jaw.

Being oh so familiar with those Georgia laws and statutes, Mike knew what rights were granted to landowners when removing trespassers from their land. He helped Lori up and steered her towards their parked cars despite her loud protests.

"Tata!" Daryl sarcastically shouted to them.

"Don't be extra, Daryl," I grumbled.

"Says the woman who just slapped the hell out of Panty Man," he scoffed.

"That wasn't extra, that was deserved," I told him very seriously.

"Or you could've just told him not to call you anymore," he said. "See? Sometimes extra is necessary."

"Alright, you two. No one was being extra. You both were being just enough," Hershel said diplomatically, although I doubted he knew what extra even meant.

"Thank you, Hershel," Daryl said with a smirk.

"Michonne, you need some ice on that hand," Hershel advised. "Go on to the house and get some. And when you see Annette, would you ask her to bring around the golf cart and my shotgun?"

Daryl and I stared at him.

"Just making sure they leave without incident," he said with a shrug.

"You watch it, old man," I told him. "I'm not helping you bury any bodies today."

He winked at me and gave me a smile that made me wonder if I actually would have to help him bury bodies today. Then he cleared his throat and looked at me bashfully.

"A grandfather?" he asked.

"A grandfather," I told him.

"A grandfather," he said proudly with a big smile.

"Hey, Hershel?" I asked while looking at Daryl. "Will you be ok standing on your own for just a minute?"

"I will," he said, enjoying his grandfatherly thoughts.

"Don't look at me like that," Daryl groaned when I grabbed him by his wrist and pulled him to the side.

"Like what, Daryl?" I asked innocently, dropping his wrist.

"Like-"

I shoved him in the chest.

"Like you're about to do that," he said as he stumbled backwards.

"Don't you ever hold me back from her again!" I said angrily.

He rolled his eyes. "You need to take that up with Rick. He told me not to let you go."

I gave him the middle finger and then cradled the hand I'd used to slap Mike, which was now throbbing.

"I will never, ever forgive you," I told him.

He looked at me without any concern. "Three king-sized Big Kats and a liter of Dr Pepper say you will," he said.

"Ten king-sized Big Kats, a bag of minis, and a case of Dr Pepper. By the end of the day," I demanded.

"Fine, Michonne," he agreed with another eye roll.

We both looked at Hershel to make sure he was still standing steadily before Daryl continued speaking.

"I was headed down the Slip 'N Slide when I saw 'em," Daryl said. "Took a second for me to realize it was Lori. It never crossed my mind that the asshole with her was Panty Man. I just thought he was some asshole. I tried to get to you and Rick as fast as I could."

I let out a sigh. "She's back, D," I said quietly.

"That doesn't mean shit," Daryl replied.

"But if Rick-"

"He won't," Daryl said. "He didn't."

"He didn't today," I conceded. "But Lori has a way of-"

"Michonne," he said, glancing at my necklace and then looking at me. "He won't."

I sighed again as he put his arm around my shoulder and we walked back over to Hershel.

"You got Rick?" he asked.

"Yeah, I got him," I said.

"I'm sure you do," he smirked. "What exactly were you two talkin' about before I ran over to you?"

"Batman," I deadpanned.

"Uh huh," he said.

"Where's your girlfriend?" I asked, changing the subject.

I smiled when I noticed his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink.

"Figured Lori was gonna be trouble, so I asked her to leave," he mumbled.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

"Calm down. You'll meet her," he said before I could pout about how I didn't get the chance to meet her.

"What do you think?" Hershel asked, grabbing on to Daryl's arm for support once Daryl was standing by his side again. "Pop Pop? Gramps? Grampy?"

"I think you have a golf cart and a shotgun headed your way, Pop Pop," I told him before heading to the house.

* * *

 **There will be a Bitches Be Crazy (part 3). Lori's not quite done yet ;)**

 **Happy New Year! Have a safe NYE! I sincerely thank you for reading, commenting, following, or favoriting! :)**


	14. Turning Tides

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! This was not the chapter I planned on writing, so no Lori in this one. But she'll be back in the next chapter!**

 **Thank you for your reviews and for reading! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **14\. Turning Tides**

In the short time that it took to walk to Hershel's house, the gravity of reality set in.

Lori was back.

Stripped from my blinding rage, that truth sat bare in the forefront of my mind, weighing heavily. And for the second time that day, I struggled to walk up the steps to the front porch.

I could lose Nugget.

I was already removed from his daily life, which wasn't a decision I made lightly. But now, at the whim of someone who had done nothing more than share her DNA, I was facing the very real possibility of being shut out of his life completely.

I carried him, I gave birth to him, I helped raise him, I loved him with all of my heart, but I could lose him.

I gripped the railing beside me.

 _Breathe._

 _Breathe._

 _Breathe._

 _ **Mine.**_

My grip tightened.

That word...

That feeling...

There it was again, trying to nudge the heaviness of Lori's return to the side.

I shook my head, disagreeing with myself. I was confusing possessiveness with protectiveness. Nugget wasn't mine. Rick wasn't mine.

I'd already gone over this with myself last night when I was on my third or fourth saké. By my fifth or sixth, I'd moved past it.

I was Nugget's Michonne, which he could only pronounce as Muh for now. I was Rick's officially unofficial best friend.

I was ok with that.

Mine meant more. More than Muh. More than officially unofficial best friends.

"No!" I said to myself, shaking my head again. "No."

I was just flustered by Lori's return.

I had to be confusing possessiveness with protectiveness.

Nugget wasn't mine. Rick wasn't mine. I had to be ok with that.

When I heard someone approaching the screen door from inside the house, I stopped my internal discussion.

"Maggie, please," I heard Glenn say in a voice that reflected an uncharacteristic struggle to stay calm.

"But, Glenn, just let me explain again," I heard Maggie plead right before Glenn pushed open the screen door and ran past me down the steps.

Maggie stood statue-still on the porch, watching him walk towards the hay fields. With tears coming very close to pouring from her eyes, she numbly turned around and walked back into the house.

I quickly followed her.

Thoughts about Lori, and thoughts about other things, could be revisited another time.

"He hates me," Maggie whispered, trudging to the couch. "He hates me, and I want to die."

"He doesn't, and you don't," I told her as she sat down.

She stared emptily at the wall on the other side of the room.

I sighed wistfully and took off Glenn's hat and my shades. When I set them on the coffee table, Maggie's eyes were drawn to the hat. She looked at it with a trembling lip before reaching for it and hugging it to her chest.

My heart went out to Gleggie for their loss of what probably would have been a very beautiful privately celebrated moment. They would experience many more beautiful pregnancy-related moments between now and the day baby Gleggie was born, but still, I empathized with Maggie and sympathized with Glenn.

If I had to guess, I'd say that once Maggie caught up to Glenn, her apologies and explanations flowed nonstop. Though I'm sure Glenn didn't doubt the truthfulness of her words, he probably just needed a few minutes of solitude to process how life as he knew it was going to change.

I was about to tell Maggie as much when I heard Nugget's happy squeal come from somewhere inside the house.

Maggie sniffled. "He's in the sun room with Annette," she said glumly, hugging the hat tighter. "You should be with him right now."

I gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze before leaving to find my sunshine.

With every step I took that brought me closer to Nugget, I felt the heaviness of my thoughts clear from my mind. And when I saw him sitting on the floor playing peek-a-boo with Annette, he instantly warmed the part of me that Lori had left cold.

This little boy fed my soul in so many wonderful ways.

"Peeboo!" he shouted, even though Annette's hands were covering her eyes. "Peeboo!" he shouted again when she uncovered them.

Annette saw me leaning in the doorway and smiled. "Still workin' on the concept," she said.

"He's almost got it down," I replied with a small laugh.

At the sound of my voice, Nugget turned towards me and belted out a high-pitched "Muh!"

My heart swelled when he tried to stand up and walk, but his excitement seemed to be throwing off his equilibrium and he couldn't quite get himself upright.

"It's okay, baby, come on," I said encouragingly as I crouched down and held my arms out.

I didn't care if he walked, crawled or rolled to me, I just wanted him in my arms. He let out a frustrated grunt before he gave up on walking and then crawled over to me.

"Nugget!" I cooed as I picked him up.

"Muhmuh!" he screeched before puckering his lips for a kiss.

I would never tire of how enthusiastically he greeted me.

"Here you go," I said, giving him a kiss. "And here's another one," I said, kissing him on his nose. "And another one," I said, kissing him on his cheek. "And a few more just because you are so cute," I said, planting kisses all over his face.

When his laughter died down, I lifted him high in the air.

"Don't you look handsome," I gushed, looking up at him. He was no longer sticky, wet, or covered in frosting, and he was wearing his formal first birthday outfit.

When Rick and I started planning Nugget's birthday, I suggested that he wear his swim trunks for the duration of the party. Rick, however, wanted him dressed in three different outfits: "formal wear" to meet-and-greet guests as they arrived; swim trunks to enjoy party activities; and a tshirt and shorts set to eat lunch and birthday cake.

I thought outfit changes were a bit much for a one-year-old, but I had to admit that Rick picked out a cute formal outfit. He was wearing a white onesie with a bright blue number one on it that matched the color of his eyes. The onesie also came with a blue and white polka dot snap-on bow tie and blue and white striped suspenders that clipped onto his little jean shorts.

"Such a big boy," I told him as I brought him down to give him another kiss.

After I secured him on my hip, I looked over to Annette, who was now standing. "He seems to have come down from his sugar high," I said to her, fully appreciating that he was no longer so jittery.

"We let him loose in the bounce house," she said, grinning. "Glenn had him bouncin' like crazy to burn off some of that energy."

"Thank God," I mumbled.

"I second that," she said with a chuckle as she walked over to us.

"Owcy! Owcy! Owcy!" Nugget yelled gleefully, kicking his little legs back and forth and bouncing against me.

"That's right! Bouncy! Bouncy! Bouncy!" Annette said to him before tickling his side.

He laughed loudly and then rested his head on my shoulder. When he was distracted by the M charm on my necklace, Annette gave me a piercing look.

"Michonne, what's goin' on?" she asked in a lowered voice. "Hershel and I heard a ruckus, so he left to check on y'all. He hasn't been back. Glenn came rushin' in lookin' shell-shocked. Maggie came rushin' in after him and she was a blubberin' mess. Beth left, but she hasn't come back… What exactly is goin' on out there?"

I held Nugget a little tighter.

"Lor-" I started to say before I stopped.

Speaking her name and the truth that followed was unexpectedly challenging. I took a quick breath.

"LoriGrimesmadeanappearancetoday," I told her, hoping she understood the words that tumbled out because I didn't want to repeat them.

Annette's eyes widened and darted to Nugget and then back to me. "Oh, dear Lord!" she cried out, clutching the lei around her neck.

Seeing and hearing how upset Annette was, Nugget sat up straight and shouted, "Uhoh!"

He was truly concerned for his Peeboo friend, and by the way his little chest was starting to heave, I knew that he was about to express that concern in a very loud way.

"Shh, shh, shhhh," I shushed soothingly, rubbing his back until his heaving started to slow down.

But uhoh, indeed.

Annette, Maggie, and Beth had very similar temperaments, so I expected Annette's indignation to make an appearance any second now.

"She's here?" she asked, turning an angry shade of red. "On my property?!"

"Last I saw, she was leaving," I told her.

And then I remembered why I'd come to the house in the first place.

 _Hershel! Shotgun! Golf cart!_

"Shit!" I exclaimed.

"It!" Nugget shouted.

 _Oh my God._

"Nugget, no, baby," I said softly.

I had worked so hard to monitor everyone's use of foul language around him, so it was only fitting that I would be the offender who had him shouting shit.

"It! It! It! It! It!" he continued to shout.

I stared at Annette with what was most likely a look of horror on my face.

"My lips are sealed," she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

"It!" Nugget shouted again and then giggled.

"Language, Nugget," I mumbled, giving him a kiss on his forehead. "Annette, Hershel wanted you to bring a shotgun and the golf cart around," I said hastily. "He's out near the barn with Daryl."

Without asking any questions, she stepped away to retrieve a shotgun from their gun safe and the golf cart keys.

The idea of Annette and Hershel driving around the farm in a golf cart, with a shotgun, while wearing Hawaiian attire, should have been amusing, but because of why they were doing it, the most I could muster was a frown. And now that Annette was involved, there was a very strong likelihood that a car window or tire would be shot out if Lori and Mike were still on the premises.

"Michonne," Annette said in a very firm voice as she walked back towards me and Nugget with the shotgun in her hands. "We all know who's done right by Carl. That woman bein' here doesn't change a thing. Don't forget that."

I nodded, mostly because I was too surprised by what she'd said to do anything else.

She looked as if she wanted to say more but wasn't sure if she should. After a few seconds, she decided to speak her mind and carefully rested the shotgun against the wall. She lovingly looked at Nugget, who was back to trying to grab my necklace, and then she gave me a ghost of a smile.

"It wasn't always easy... me steppin' in after Hershel's first wife passed. Maggie was fourteen and little Bethy was just ten. The girls were so angry, and so sad, and so confused," she said in a hushed voice. "We struggled... We struggled for a long time before we were able to look at each other and treat other as a family. But I love those girls with all of my heart. There's nuthin' I wouldn't do for either of them."

I nodded again, this time because I understood the love she felt for the children who weren't biologically hers.

"They know I'd never try to take the place of their mother," she continued. "But those girls are my daughters, too. No one will ever convince me otherwise."

She cupped my cheek and looked at me intently.

"You and me? Our situations are different, but they boil down to the same thing. So that woman bein' here, that changes nuthin'. Don't forget that," she repeated firmly.

"I won't," I whispered.

"Good," she said, letting go of my cheek to pat my arm. "If you ever need to talk, mother to mother, I'm here. And now that Maggie's joinin' the club..." she rolled her eyes dramatically and made the sign of the cross. "God help us all."

Her words catapulted me into shock. Mother to mother.

"See ya soon, little guy," she said to Nugget, jiggling his foot.

He waved bye-bye and then covered one of his eyes with his hand. "Peeboo!" he shouted.

Annette smiled broadly at him before stepping away, but I pulled her back for a hug.

"Thank you, Annette," I said, hearing my voice crack with emotion. "For the second time today..."

I wasn't sure how best to express what the tea from this morning and what her company at this moment meant to me, but they meant the world.

She pulled away to look at me.

"Ah, yes… You don't have hangover face anymore. And now Hershel owes me a dollar," she said with a wink before picking up the shotgun and heading for the front door.

It sounded like she and Maggie exchanged words on her way out, but I couldn't make out anything except for Maggie groaning before everything was quiet again.

I walked deeper into the sun room, enjoying the embrace of the sun's rays.

 _Mother to mother._

I swayed with Nugget for a few minutes before he started to squirm. He pushed against me with both of his hands and leaned back to look at me.

"Lo mirt dree sho sha?" he asked with wide blue eyes.

Not one of his words of gibberish was recognizable, but he looked at me as if what he asked was very important and required an answer.

I smiled at him. My love for this precious little boy ran so deep. Everything about him owned my heart, including the parts of him that screamed he was a part of her... The straight hair, the freckles, the little indent in his chin, his apparent non-bowlegedness.

No, I wasn't going to lose Nugget.

Although DNA made him hers, everything that I'd given him and would continue to give him made him… a very, very important and vital part of my life.

He cocked his head and looked at me, similar to the way that his father often did, and waited for me to respond.

"Yes," I said confidently, hoping that was the right answer.

He gurgled happily, rested his head back on my shoulder, and put his thumb in his mouth.

"Do you know that the day you were born was the scariest day of my life?" I whispered to him, resting my head against his. "It was also the happiest, Carl. It was the day you became my little nugget of joy. No matter what happens, know that I love you. Always. Ok?"

He continued to suck his thumb.

"Ok," I whispered with a smile, walking back to the front room to check on Maggie.

She was lying face-down on the couch with an arm and a leg hanging down onto the floor.

"Maggie?" I called out, amazed by how dramatic she managed to make most situations.

"Gam!" Nugget shouted.

When she didn't respond, I walked over to her and sat Nugget on her back.

"Gam! Gam! Gam!" he yelled, bouncing up and down.

"What?" she groaned into the couch.

"You should join me and Nugget in the kitchen," I told her, picking Nugget up.

"But Glenn," she whined, turning her head towards us. "When he comes back-"

"You'll only be in the kitchen, Maggie. Up. Now," I ordered.

She sighed heavily, but slowly rose from the couch. Not trusting that she wouldn't just plop back down, I waited for her to start walking and then followed behind her. After we entered the kitchen, she headed straight for the refrigerator.

I sat down at the table with Nugget in my lap, flexing my slapping hand. The throbbing was getting worse. I planned on putting ice on it, but I liked the reminder of how hard I had slapped Mike.

I also felt like I deserved the pain.

Mike was the reason why Lori was here. Not a crisis of conscience. Not deep-seeded remorse. Not love. He brought her back. I suspected I knew the why behind what he had done, but I would never give Mike Anthony the chance to explain it to me.

And I would never forgive myself for allowing him to bring this catastrophic level of havoc into our lives.

"Michonne, I need this," Maggie said in a confrontational tone while sliding a sheet cake onto the table.

I side-eyed her for interrupting my thoughts and then looked at the cake. The white frosting was decorated with confetti sprinkles and the word "Happy" was written out with orange frosting in a large, swirly font. The irony of Maggie wanting to eat such a cheerful cake when the day had taken such a dark turn was not lost on me.

She stood next to the table with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed, silently questioning if we were about to argue about eating this cake. She had absolutely nothing to worry about.

I remembered pregnancy cravings; I would never argue with a pregnant lady over a craving. Besides that, I really needed something sweet and comforting to settle my own nerves. I preferred a Big Kat, but birthday cake would do in a pinch.

"I'm pretty sure 'Happy' is the chocolate cake with the buttercream frostin'," Maggie said in a less aggressive tone. "And we still have two more cakes—the '1st Birthday' and 'Carl' cakes," she continued. "We can just add an apostrophe S to the 'Carl' cake if-"

"Mag, I'm sold," I told her. "We both need this."

Relief exploded across her face. "Are we eatin' civilized or diggin' in with our hands?" she asked.

As terrible as the morning had been, I didn't think we were at such a low point that we couldn't be bothered with forks.

"Let's start out civilized and see where the day take us," I suggested.

"I can do civilized," she said, walking to the silverware drawer. "And FYI, if Rick gets pissed, I'm tellin' him I had your blessin'."

Rick wasn't going to be upset about us eating the cake. Because of Lori and Mike's antics, I knew the party would be canceled.

"Muhmuh!" Nugget cried out frantically, looking at the cake that his hands couldn't reach. When he started trying to climb onto the table to get to it, I tightened my hold on him.

He looked back at me with an adorable little pout, mirroring yet another expression of his father's. I felt his pain. I knew all too well the frustration of being held back from the one thing in the world you wanted to tear in to the most. But Rick hadn't seen him in his formal wear yet, so I didn't want Nugget getting messy with cake.

"Is there a bib in here?" I asked Maggie.

"I think there is," she said, looking around.

While she searched for one, Nugget started grunting his frustration over his inability to get to the cake.

"Mmmhmm," Maggie hummed as she opened a drawer. "Told you he got his hangry from you."

I rolled my eyes.

I also swallowed the hangry demand I was about to make for her to light a fire under her ass in finding that bib so that we could start eating.

"Muh!" Nugget impatiently screamed, hitting his hands against my arm.

"Carl!" I said in a sharp tone that instantly made him stop.

He let out another frustrated grunt and then looked back at me. The scrunch of his face and the rise and fall of his chest told me that he was very close to a meltdown.

"Don't worry about the bib," I said to Maggie.

"You sure?" she asked.

"Positive. I'll just take his outfit off. Now bring those forks over here!"

"I mean are you sure you want him to eat cake? He got a little crazy just eatin' frostin'," she said, sitting in the chair across from me.

That was true. But it was his birthday—he was entitled to his own birthday cake. Plus, I did not have the energy to deal with a tantrum right now. I'd just deal with the sugar high consequences later.

"What's a little more crazy added to today?" I asked her.

Once I had Nugget down to his diaper, I sat him on the table close to one end of the cake. He immediately attacked it. Maggie and I saluted each other with our forks before we started attacking our own sides.

Outside of the occasional "mmm" from Nugget, Maggie and I sat in silence, reliving our personal nightmares from earlier.

I replayed the moment when I first saw Lori's face. She'd always been the all bones, no body type of thin, but her face seemed fuller since the last time I'd seen her. She still had those barely there lips though. And she was still trying to pull off bangs.

I stabbed my fork into the cake.

"Glenn does hate me," Maggie said quietly.

"That's what he said?" I asked, shaking off my memory of Lori.

I knew full well that Glenn had not told Maggie he hated her. In no universe would Glenn Rhee ever tell Maggie Greene that he hated her.

"No, but he won't talk to me," she whined as she loaded her fork with more cake.

I waited for her to finish eating her forkful so that we could continue talking. But after she swallowed, she ate another forkful. When she went for another forkful after that, I intervened.

"Forks down," I ordered.

She pouted, but she put her fork down.

"He's gonna leave me," she said heavyheartedly, swiping her finger through frosting. "Probably for some not pregnant chick who always knows how to use her words."

Nugget, who noticed that I was no longer eating, held out one of his cake-covered hands to me.

"No, thank you," I told him sweetly.

I was thoroughly charmed by his thoughtfulness but also glad that I'd taken his outfit off. Most of his body was already covered in cake.

"Let's look at this from Glenn's perspective," I said to Maggie, redirecting my attention to her.

She picked up her fork and waited for me to continue.

"He just found out that he's going to be a father. That alone is a lot to take in," I noted.

"True," she agreed, eating more cake.

"And not only did he find out that he's going to be a father, he found out in front of your father," I added.

She chewed slowly. "True," she agreed.

"And on top of that, he found out in front of all of us that he wasn't the first to find out that he's going to be a father."

Maggie swallowed and then stared at me.

"Is this where you tell me 'I told you so'?" she asked, eyes flashing.

"No, Maggie. This is where I tell you that that's a lot to digest. Give him some time and space to digest it," I said gently. "He doesn't hate you. He's just digesting."

"You really don't think he hates me?" she asked, raising her eyebrows hopefully.

"I really don't," I told her.

She let out a breath and smiled brightly at me. And then she jumped up from her chair and ran to the bathroom.

Nugget waved bye-bye to her.

"She'll be back, sweetie," I told him. "I think baby Gleggie is just making something come up... or out."

"Mmm," he said, reaching for more cake.

When Maggie returned, she looked annoyed. "A lot of peein' is involved with bein' pregnant," she complained.

I laughed. "That only gets worse, Mag," I warned her. "And then when you don't have to worry about your pee anymore, you have to worry about your baby's."

She groaned and sat down. When she looked at me again, she had tears in her eyes.

"Thank you, Michonne," she said with heartfelt emotion. "I know you have your own stuff to deal with right now."

When tears started rolling down her cheeks, I got up to give her a hug.

"Don't," she said, stopping me. "I'll c-c-cry even more if you h-h-hug me. Just give m-m-me a second."

I respected her request and sat back down. While she sobbed, I watched Nugget eat cake. He really had a terrible cake eating technique. He'd grab a handful, squeeze most of it out of his hand while bringing it to his mouth, mostly miss his mouth, and then go for more cake.

He did offer a cake-covered hand to Maggie, but that just made her cry harder.

When her tears finally stopped, she looked at me with red eyes and a red nose.

"Thank you again," she said, sniffling.

"You're welcome, Maggie. You know your stuff is my stuff."

"I know," she said gratefully, picking up her fork and eyeing the cake. "And thank you for body slammin' that bitch."

She said the last part so casually that it took a second for her statement to register.

"Language!" I said to her when it did.

"Sorry," she said with a mouth full of cake. "Sorry, Carl," she said to him.

Nugget giggled and put his hand in the cake.

"Will bee-yatch work?" she asked me.

"No," I said. "And don't tell Rick I said no. And stop using uh-sole."

She laughed. "What about ho?"

I shook my head no.

"Skank?"

I gave her a look.

"Cow?" she asked desperately.

Before I could respond, Nugget shouted "Moo!"

I smiled at how utterly adorable he was. Then I said a silent prayer that the baby gibberish versions of bitch, bee-yatch, ho, and skank wouldn't come out of his mouth today.

"So then cow works?" Maggie asked impatiently. "Because I'm runnin' out of female dog replacements."

Even though cow was a harmless word, using it in a derogatory way to discuss Lori in front of Nugget didn't feel right. So I did the most sensible thing I could think of...

I picked Nugget up, sat him in my lap, pulled the cake close enough for him to be able to reach it, and covered his ears with my hands.

"Please continue," I said to Maggie, ignoring the ache in my slapping hand. "Unfiltered."

Her eyes lit up.

"I was just thankin' you for body slammin' that bitch," she said. "The fight was over! Who pushes someone from behind after the fight is over? What happened to decency and honor in fightin'?"

"Welcome to Lori Grimes' world," I told her. "Where decency and honor do not exist."

"No good, dirty-fightin' bitch," Maggie muttered.

I didn't disagree.

"And why didn't I go with a drop kick instead of a hair pull?" she asked herself. "What was I thinkin'?"

"Don't feel too bad," I told her, reveling in the memory of Beth hurling herself at Lori.

"Why? What? Tell me!" she demanded.

"Your baby sister tackled the hell out of Lori," I said with glee.

"What!" Maggie squealed.

"She did," I said, laughing. "Rick pulled her off before she could do anything else. But that tackle? It. Was. Awesome."

Maggie beamed with pride. "Go, Bethy! And good luck to Rick tryin' to calm her ass down. Even I don't bother with Beth when she's in tackle mode."

I held in a groan. Nugget and chocolate cake had gone a long way in making me feel better, but I needed Rick. I still wasn't ok with Lori being here, and I really needed to be not ok with him.

"Wait, why'd Beth tackle Lori?" Maggie asked, frowning. "Did Lori say somethin' to her?"

"Calm down, Maggie. That tackle was all for you," I told her. "By the way, Beth knows you're pregnant."

She smiled and became teary-eyed again.

"Michonne, I just want you to know that my baby comes first from here on out. While I'm pregnant, you won't have to worry about me fightin' again."

I raised an eyebrow.

"What?" she asked.

"Just while you're pregnant?"

She shrugged. "Once the baby's here, I have a score to settle. And I _will_ find Lori Grimes to settle it."

I had no qualms with that.

"Fucking Lori Grimes," I muttered.

"Basic, Olive Oyl-lookin' bitch," Maggie muttered.

Convinced that we'd moved past all of the colorful language, I uncovered Nugget's ears. He looked back at me, put his hands over his ears, and shouted "Peeboo!"

I could only shake my head when I saw the cake he left in his hair after he removed his hands.

"Is your wrist ok?" I asked Maggie, noticing the scratches Lori left.

"Yeah, I've had worse. She scratches like a child," she said in annoyance. "And your hand? What happened there?"

"Mike," I said flatly.

"So was that Panty Man? Here with Lori?" she asked.

I nodded. Maggie was going to want details, but I didn't care to discuss Mike Anthony any further.

"Ok," Maggie said, understanding that Mike was not going to be a topic of discussion. "Well you need to put somethin' on your hand. We have instant cold packs and ice. What's your pleasure?"

"Sit down," I told her after she stood up. "I'll get something in a minute, Mag."

I appreciated her concern, and I didn't mean to be rude, but I just wasn't ready to give up the pain. Maggie wasn't happy with my response, but she sat back down.

"You really should put somethin' on that soon," she said, looking at my hand.

I looked away from her and nodded.

"Michonne?" she asked after a brief silence. "Why do you think she's here? What do you think she wants?"

I sighed and looked down at Nugget, who was now more interested in mashing the cake with his hands than trying to eat it.

"I don't know," I said, pushing the cake out of his reach. "I don't know what selfish motivation brought her back, and I don't care. But never in my life have I been so determined to protect someone that I love, and that's exactly what I intend to do."

She looked at me for a beat before saying anything.

"You're talkin' about Carl?" she asked slowly.

"Of course," I said, confused by the question.

She stared at me.

I stared back at her.

"And what about Rick?" she asked.

Warmth flooded my face.

"What about Rick?" I asked.

She stared at me.

I stared back at her.

She narrowed her eyes at me.

I forced myself not to look away.

"Glenn says I should stay out of it, but seriously, Michonne, you and Rick need to shit or get off the pot."

"It!" Nugget shouted, throwing his hands up.

 _Shit._

"Nugget, no. That's a bad word," I said sternly.

Although truthfully, as much as I was bothered by his outburst, I also appreciated the distraction it provided.

"It!" he shouted again, looking back at me with a huge smile.

"You see, Maggie? This is exactly why-"

"Uh uh. Don't even try it. Annette told me he got S-H-I-T from you," she said with a smirk. "And I'm sorry for sayin' it in front of him, but don't change the subject."

Before she could continue with her line of questioning, we heard someone open the screen door and enter the house.

"Maggie? Michonne?" Beth called out.

Maggie's face lit up. "Bethy!" she screamed, jumping up from her chair and running to the front room.

I kissed Nugget on top of his head.

"No more 'it', Nugget," I whispered to him. "Especially not in front of daddy."

"Dadu?" Nugget asked excitedly.

"Yes, I think daddy's finally here!" I told him, feeling as excited as he looked.

Maggie and Beth walked arm in arm into the kitchen with identical smiles on their faces, but I was taken aback by Beth's overall appearance. One of her braids was unraveled, her overalls were dirty, and one of her knees was badly scraped.

"Eht!" Nugget cheered.

"Hi, cutie!" Beth said with an even bigger smile.

I stared at her knee, trying not to gag.

"It's fine, Michonne. I've had worse," she said with a shrug. "And anyways, it was worth it."

When she saw the remains of the cake on the table, her eyes bulged. "You pigs!" she shouted, looking at me and then Maggie. "You ate birthday cake without me?"

"Baby mama drama over there and single mama drama over here," Maggie pouted. "It couldn't be helped."

"What's she talkin' about?" Beth asked me.

"Well, according to your sister, she wants to die, Glenn hates her, and he's leaving her for a thin and chatty young lady," I explained. "Does that cover everything, Mag?"

"It does," she whispered, plopping down into her chair at the table.

"That's stupid, Maggie," Beth said loudly, rolling her eyes.

"You're stupid, Beth," Maggie retorted, narrowing her eyes.

"No, I'm an aunty! And you're gonna be a mom!" Beth shrieked. "Congratulations, sis!" she said, hugging Maggie tightly and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Bethy," Maggie grinned.

Their sisterly bond was very endearing, but I was concerned that Rick had not yet walked into the kitchen.

"Beth, where's Rick?" I asked.

"He said he needed a minute before he came in," she said, pulling out the chair next to Maggie. "He got a call or somethin'."

I rolled my eyes.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

I would just have to wait patiently for him to get off the phone with her and then join us in the kitchen.

"And everything's ok between the two of you?" I asked Beth.

"Yeah. Deputy Grimes and I had a nice long chat," she said somberly. "You know? I used to think Rick was kinda hot. But after that lecture he just gave me? I don't think so. No offense, Michonne."

"No offense taken," I said with a laugh, standing up. "Maggie, will you watch him? Clean him up?" I asked, handing Nugget to her.

"You know I will," she said, making a funny face for him.

My patience had worn thin. I was tired of waiting for Rick so I was going to find him.

Thankfully, he wasn't hard to find.

He was sitting on the top step of the porch stairs, but I could tell that something was wrong. He didn't react to the screen door opening or closing. He didn't react to the sound of my footsteps behind him. He didn't react to me sitting down next to him.

I observed the hard set of his jaw and his heavy breathing while he stared with laser-like focus at his wedding ring.

"Rick," I said softly, lightly bumping his shoulder and hoping to break him out of his trance.

He turned his head and looked at me in surprise, as if I had just materialized out of thin air.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," I whispered back.

His glance swept over me, taking in the cake that Nugget had smeared on my chest and neck.

"You're covered in cake," he said with a half smile.

I looked down at myself. "Yeah, I guess I am," I said, smiling.

"Did Carl at least eat any or did you hog it all?"

I gave Rick a look.

"Richard Arthur Grimes, do you honestly think I'm covered in cake because I'm that messy of an eater?"

"I've seen you eat cake before, Michonne. So, yes?"

"Anyways," I said with a playful eye roll. "All of this is Nugget's work."

"Uh huh. Sure it is," he said, smiling fully.

I bumped his shoulder again, and he bumped mine back. But once he looked away from me, I felt the vibe between us change.

"I think I just broke my phone," he said with frustration in his voice. "Lori called. Said she was goin' home."

For a moment, a very triumphant moment, I thought home meant wherever Lori had been hiding out for the last year. But when Rick looked at me with anger simmering in his eyes, I knew that home meant his house.

"Legally, she has every right to be there," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Her name's on all the paperwork. I never changed the locks."

I wanted to remind Rick that I had divorce attorney contacts who could make what was legally theirs either solely his or solely hers, but the ball was in his court to ask me for a contact.

"So you threw your phone?" I asked him instead.

"Yeah, I threw it. But threw it, threw it. Hail Mary, quarterback style," he said, looking off in the direction he must have thrown his phone.

I'd seen Rick devastated, depressed, distraught, and delusional over the last year, but this was the first time that I'd seen him express any anger towards Lori. This was huge for him. It was a long overdue moment for both of us really.

So it was a shame that I wasn't able to better control myself.

Maybe I was just reacting to the stress of the day, but I found it hilarious that Lori was so aggravating that she'd driven another person to destroy a cell phone. I found it even more hilarious that Rick couldn't manage to throw and break his phone like a normal pissed off person.

I tried to hold the laugh in, but I gave up and let it out.

"Stop looking at me like that, Rick," I panted once my fit of laughter passed.

He was not amused. At all.

"Sorry," I said, wiping tears from my eyes. "Temporary insanity."

I felt awful for my display of insensitivity, but he would laugh with me over this one day.

"So much for no drama today," he said dismally.

Quite a few of us had missed the no drama memo, although showing up hungover paled in comparison to showing up in the way that Lori had.

"How's your hand?" Rick asked.

I looked at him, wondering how he knew that I slapped Mike.

"Ran into Daryl when I was walkin' back to the house with Beth," he explained. "Heard it was one helluva slap."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course he would find a way to tell you something two seconds after it happened. I swear I wish one of you had been born a girl."

A smile brightened his eyes but it was was quickly replaced with concern.

"How's your hand, Michonne?"

"Its fine," I told him.

He looked at me with "liar" written all over his face.

"You're going to stop calling me a liar, Rick Grimes," I said, giving him a threatening look. "That's twice today."

"You're gonna need to stop shamin' your profession and learn how to lie then," he replied.

"Back to the lying lawyer jokes, huh? Do I make donut jokes?"

He looked at me as if I was crazy. "You made donut jokes all throughout my Academy training. And my probationary period. And my first year as a sheriff's deputy," he said. "Now let me see your hand."

"So bossy," I told him as I held it out.

He gently took my hand in both of his and started massaging my thumb, then each finger, and then my palm before returning to my thumb and starting over. Rick's touch was amazingly soothing, but I pulled my hand away from his.

I didn't deserve to be soothed.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, watching as I clenched and unclenched my hand.

I shook my head slowly. "No, you didn't."

After a few moments of silence, he gently took my hand again and resumed the massage. "Michonne, you know that what Panty Man did today isn't your fault, right?"

I didn't answer him.

"Michonne?"

I sighed. "Maybe not completely, Rick, but some of the fault does lie with me."

I could see that he disagreed with me, but I didn't give him the opportunity to tell me why.

"I was sitting at that bar last night thinking about whether being happy enough with Mike would work," I told him. "And at some point, I told myself that it would. But the thing about self-deception is that your head and your heart are always at odds. Telling myself that Mike was enough didn't stop me from feeling so overwhelmingly sad and guilty about the choice I was making."

Rick, completely engrossed by what I was saying, had stopped massaging my hand, although he still held it.

"Why did you feel so sad and guilty?" he asked quietly, looking at my hand.

I swallowed hard.

"Why doesn't matter," I said, pulling my hand from his again. "The fact that I even felt those things was reason enough for me to end the relationship. I should have ended it. Maybe he wouldn't have followed through with bringing Lori here today."

"I don't think that matters, Michonne. He had a plan."

"Then I should have ended it sooner," I argued.

"Stop. You don't get to blame yourself for what happened today," he said, putting his arm around my shoulders. "Nobody blames you."

He wrapped his other arm around my waist and hugged me. "I don't blame you," he whispered into my ear.

No matter what Rick said, I still felt partly responsible for what happened today. I always would.

For the next few minutes, Rick kept his arms around me and we enjoyed a companionable silence. Regrettably, I was going to break it. Our conversation was going to eventually work itself back to Lori, so now was as good a time as any to bring her up.

Before summoning the darkness that seemed to loom over us when we discussed her, I took a moment to savor the feel of Rick's arms around me. It would be so easy to snuggle into him and shut everything out for a little while longer, but I couldn't do that.

"She's back," I said, feeling Rick's body tense.

He let out a slow breath.

"She is," he said emotionlessly, removing his arms from around me.

And the darkness started to creep in.

Rick twisted his wedding ring around his finger with a pensive look on his face.

"I need to talk to her," he said, looking at me.

"Should have thought about that before you threw your phone," I quipped.

"I meant in person, Michonne."

"Yeah, I know," I said with a sigh.

I nervously clutched the M charm on my necklace, not caring that Nugget had left it sticky.

"I have questions," he said. "Thangs I need to say to her."

Of course he had questions. Of course he wanted to talk to her. That didn't surprise me. But the thought of them being alone together was unsettling.

I felt my heart start to race.

"So what are you going to do, Rick? She's probably making herself pretty cozy at the house. Are you just going to casually stroll in? Have a friendly chat over a home-cooked meal? Reminisce about old times? Forgive and forget?"

He squinted at me like I had lost my mind. "That's not exactly how I pictured it, but yeah, I'm gonna head over to the house and talk to her. You have a problem with that approach?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do," I said. "Maybe you shouldn't be so accommodating, Rick."

"Ok, then what scenario would make you happy, Michonne? I can't kick her out, so should I bring Beth with me and let her finish what she started? That doesn't solve anythang. And that doesn't get me any answers about why she left or why she's here now."

Unable to sit still, I stood up and jogged down the steps.

"Do what you need to do," I said when I looked up at him from the bottom of the stairs. "Just don't be so fucking naive about it."

"And now I'm bein' naive?" he asked, offended by my words.

"She's here to claim what she thinks is hers, Rick. If you really think she's just here to give you answers, then yes, you're being naive. If you really think that answers are all you want from her, then yes, you're being naive," I said, crossing my arms. I felt my anger bubbling, but I didn't care. "And just because you were angry for like two seconds for the first time IN A YEAR, let's not forget that you are still the same person who made excuse after excuse for her. The same person who fell apart over her. The same person who couldn't even take care of our son because of her!"

Rick gave me a squint and head tilt combo before I turned my back on him.

 _Breathe._

I hadn't meant to attack him, but I was afraid. I was afraid that once Lori had Rick alone, she would use their for better or for worse, in good times and bad vows against him and suck him back in. He was just figuring out his worth without her. Nugget didn't even know her. She didn't deserve them, and they deserved so much better.

I felt a tug on my hand and realized that Rick was standing next to me. I turned to face him, dreading a fight, but the calm in his eyes put me at ease.

"Michonne, when I used to think about this day—Carl's first birthday—it was always with mixed emotions," he said. "It's the anniversary of his birth and of you givin' birth to him, which is everythang, but it's also the anniversary of Lori leavin'."

"I get it, Rick," I said, already knowing that Nugget's birthday would be bittersweet for him.

"No, Michonne, you don't," he replied, shaking his head. "Today, I didn't have mixed emotions. It didn't feel like some big tragedy that Lori wasn't here. You, Daryl, Gleggie, the Greenes have surrounded Carl with so much love—not just today, but for the past year. And there's a guest list full of people who were plannin' on bein' here to celebrate how much they love him too. So when I woke up this mornin', I didn't feel any sadness over Lori not bein' here."

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I searched his eyes, looking for signs of a lie. I found none.

"Seein' Lori was a shock. Knowin' that she ruined what we all worked so hard to create for him today…" his eyes darkened and the veins in his neck started popping before he let out a deep breath. "Whatever you think is gonna happen between me and her, it's not, Michonne. Yesterday, I said I didn't know how I'd feel if she popped up today. I know now."

He cupped my cheeks with his hands.

"I know now," he repeated, looking deeply into my eyes. "I'm gonna talk to Lori. If you wanna fight about that, I understand. If you're still mad at me for other thangs and wanna fight about that, I understand. But can I get a rain check on the fight? Because we've had kind of a crazy day, and I really, really need you right now."

 _Mine._

"Ok," I whispered, too shocked by what Rick just said to acknowledge the thought I just had.

"Are we gonna have a problem when I go talk to her?"

"No, Rick," I answered.

"But?" he asked.

"But... just don't talk to her today," I said. "She made Nugget's actual birth day about her. Today can't be about her too. It has to be about Nugget. Can we do that? Make the rest of today about him?"

His eyes roamed my face. "We can do that," he said.

"Then I'm with you," I told him. "And I will issue you that rain check."

"Of course you will," he said quietly, smiling and staring at my lips.

I pulled away from him, but I took his hand and led him back up to the top step.

"What do you want to do about this party, Rick?" I asked after we sat down. "Guests will probably start arriving soon."

"Daryl's on it. He's makin' phone calls and lettin' people know the party's canceled," he said. "Hershel and Annette are turnin' anyone away if they get here before Daryl gets in touch with 'em. We just need to figure out what to do with everythang we set up."

"Maybe we can reschedule instead of flat out cancel?" I suggested.

"Maybe," he said. "We'll figure it out."

"Hey, are you two done out here?" Maggie asked, opening the screen door. "This little guy is bein' a stinker and only wants his Dadu and Muhmuh."

"Dadu!" Nugget shouted.

"Hey, son!" Rick said with joy, taking him from Maggie.

All traces of cake were gone, and he was once again looking dapper in his birthday outfit.

"Look at you, buddy," Rick said, grinning and admiring him in his outfit.

Maggie handed me an ice pack, which I gratefully accepted. Before she headed back inside the house, I noticed her look in the direction of the hay fields for Glenn.

I caught her eye and mouthed "Digesting" to her.

She mouthed "Shit or get off the pot" to me.

"Ok, bye, Maggie," I said dismissively as she went back into the house.

"What do you think?" Rick asked, bumping my shoulder with his. "You, me, Carl, your couch, and the Bubble Guppies?"

I smiled. "How about this? First we find your phone, then we make sure everything is squared away here, then we pack up some birthday cake, and then we spend the rest of the day on my couch with the Bubble Guppies."

"Sounds like a plan," he said. "Does that sound like a plan, Carl?"

"It!" Nugget shouted.

 _Oh my God._

"Which direction did you throw your phone, Rick?" I asked, pretending not to have heard Nugget.

"That way. Towards the hay fields," he said.

"Where the hay is knee high?" I asked in disbelief.

He gave me a sheepish look and shrugged.

"Why wouldn't you just throw the phone down, Rick?"

"I'm sorry, Michonne. I'm not as skilled in the art of phone throwin' as you," he deadpanned.

"You know what this means though, right?" I asked, ignoring his comment. "If your phone is broken or we just can't find it, you can finally upgrade!"

He gave me an unimpressed look.

"Wireless charging! A 12 mega-pixel camera! 4 gigabytes of RAM!" I said excitedly. "We can finally play Words with Friends!"

He squinted at me. "I don't understand anythang you just said. And anyways, when I got my last refurbished phone it was a buy one get three free special. I already have a backup phone."

He laughed when all I could do was stare at him. "Don't look at me like that, Michonne."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm going to get Maggie and Beth to help us find your phone. And hand the baby over," I demanded, holding my arms out to him. "I don't want him exposed to your flip phone insanity while I'm gone."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said as he handed Nugget to me.

"Don't worry. I still love you in spite of your shortcomings," I joked.

"Love you, too, Michonne," he said softly as I walked into the house.

* * *

 **Hi again! So I got held up with this chapter because of Rick. I had three different ways I could write him (hulking out angry, misdirecting anger angry, and the version you just read), but each version affected how I wrote Beth and Michonne, so there were a lot of rewrites.**

 **I think Michonne and Rick are in a good place for what's to come in the next chapter though!**


	15. Bitches Be Crazy (part 3)

**A/N: I don't want to point fingers or name names, but it's all Scott Gimple's fault that it took so long for me to update. Moment of silence for Carl.** **But I'm out of my writing rut!**

 **Bitches Be Crazy (part 3) was a very long chapter, so I had to break it up into three parts/chapters. I'm posting two parts today, and the third is on its way!**

 **Thank you for sticking with this story! Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **15\. Bitches Be Crazy (part 3)**

"Owcy! Owcy! Owcy!"

Maggie tried to warn me.

"Owcy! Owcy! Owcy!"

I should have listened.

"Owcy! Owcy! Owcy!"

But birthday cake was the only reasonable option at the time.

"Owcy! OWCY! OWWCYYYYYYYY!" Nugget screamed, filling all 1,089 sq. feet of my condo with his voice.

His cake-induced sugar high was in full swing, and the only thing Rick and I could do was ride out the storm. For the last thirty minutes or so, that meant letting Nugget hold onto our hands while he bounced up and down between us on my couch.

While screaming.

Very loudly.

Every time one of his screams hit a cringe-worthy octave, I flirted with the idea of running to my room, jumping in bed, and burying my head under the pillows. But the instant Nugget looked up at me with that beaming little face of his, those sparkling blue eyes and that huge toothless grin kept me anchored in place.

I couldn't possibly run away from him when he looked so deliciously happy.

And I couldn't possibly run away from Rick. Literally, I couldn't run away from Rick. I was 99.9% certain he would pull a Beth and tackle me if I attempted to make a run for it. I wouldn't blame him either. Although technically, this sugar high was not my fault. Maggie and I wouldn't have needed cake therapy in the first place if Lori and Mike hadn't shown up how they did when they did.

Because the day had been thrown into such disarray, Nugget's hyperactive explosion took me and Rick by surprise. We were normally able to pinpoint when to expect a cranky meltdown or an overstimulated outburst from him, but since I hadn't been paying attention to how much cake he'd eaten, I wasn't able to determine when we'd start seeing the effects of it.

It also completely slipped my mind that Nugget had eaten cake once my focus shifted to searching for Rick's phone. I assumed Maggie and Beth would be on board with joining the search party, but the Greene sisters were being a particular type of stubborn when I asked for their help. Maggie had made her way back to the couch and refused to budge from her face-down position until Glenn returned, and Beth had made herself comfortable at the kitchen table and was content devouring what was left of the "Happy" cake before moving on to the "Carl".

Rick and I could have looked for his phone on our own, but the idea of leaving Maggie and Beth in their sulking and bingeing states didn't sit well with me. So I made a decision. If a superhero, Hawaiian bounce house, mini water park, petting zoo-themed birthday extravaganza wasn't in the cards, then we would spend our time together looking for that damn flip phone.

But Maggie and Beth were being stubborn.

Asking them nicely to help find the phone didn't work. Presenting a "together, we're strong" argument didn't work. Using Nugget's adorableness to pull at their heartstrings didn't work. The only way I could get them out of the house was to make them a promise.

It was a promise I'd made in jest, but I knew they would hold me to it based on how they cackled and squealed their way out the front door. Rick looked at me questioningly after I joined them outside, but I shrugged as if I had no idea what the reason behind their obnoxiousness was.

Maggie, of course, was more than happy to announce what I'd promised. She would have, too, if Beth hadn't caught sight of Hershel, Annette and Daryl heading to the house. We studied them carefully as their golf cart approached, trying to decipher what the long looks on their faces meant. Thankfully, or regrettably depending on how one looked at it, we learned that no bodies needed burying, no shots had been fired, and everyone who was invited to the party had been informed that it was canceled.

To ensure that we didn't have any more unexpected or unwanted visitors, Daryl and Annette closed and locked the gates to the property. And so, for just a little while, we were in our own little bubble. Before the seven of us could withdraw into our individual thoughts and allow a somber silence to fill our bubble, Nugget called out to Annette, put his hands on his head, and shouted "Peeboo!"

The most adorable pronunciation of peek-a-boo by the most adorable one-year-old in the world was enough to pull us all from the collective funk we were slipping into. It also put me back in phone search mode. I knew that Daryl, Hershel and Annette would participate, no questions asked. Daryl was too loyal of a friend to not help out, and Hershel and Annette were too competitive to just sit on the sidelines.

I didn't want them poking fun at Rick, so I was planning to gloss over why we were searching and just focus on where we were searching. But Beth, who hadn't witnessed anything and only knew what I had vaguely told her, took it upon herself to give them a heavily embellished, overly animated recount of how Rick lost his phone.

Daryl laughed entirely too loudly for entirely too long when Beth was done. And once he caught his breath, he teased Rick in the way that only a best friend could get away with. Rick took the ribbing in stride, especially after Daryl's laughter spread to Maggie, Beth, Hershel and Annette. Once they caught their breaths, they teased Rick in the way that only family could get away with.

Even Nugget clapped and giggled while everyone gave his daddy a hard time.

More so than laughing at Rick's predicament though, I think everyone truly needed a really good laugh after all of the day's drama. Rick accepted that. He may have mouthed "I need new friends" to me when Annette, who hadn't witnessed anything and only knew what Beth had just told everyone, reenacted how he threw his phone, but the slightest upturn of his lips told me that he very much appreciated this team of people around us.

Hershel and Annette kept the laughs coming when, to no one's surprise, they started trash talking right before the search began. It was all G-rated and in good fun, so the rest of us followed suit.

Because I knew that Beth hated that she had a baby face, I taunted her by calling her Babyface.

Because Beth was still a tad salty over Rick breaking up her fight, she taunted him by calling him Officer Friendly.

Because of a brief but regrettable period in our 20s when Daryl made bad hygiene decisions, Rick taunted him by calling him Pigpen.

Because Hershel was sitting in his motorized wheelchair with Annette on his lap, Daryl taunted them by calling them Wheels and Legs.

And because of how I had shown up that morning, Hershel and Annette taunted me by calling me Drunky Baby Giraffe.

Maggie opted to sit out the actual search, but she did offer to call Rick's phone from the comfort of the porch swing. I handed Nugget off to her and tasked them with dialing Rick's phone so that it was always ringing.

Rick's ring tone for Maggie, which Maggie demanded that we all set as her ring tone, was a snippet of Katy Perry's song "Roar." The first time Maggie called Rick's phone, we all sprinted, or rolled, in different directions in search of Katy's voice, intent on being the first to find the phone.

After the tenth time Maggie called Rick's phone—the tenth time of Katy belting out that she had the eye of the tiger, we were all working together to find it, desperate to make the ringing stop.

The hay made it impossible to determine its exact location, which is why we gave Glenn a hero's welcome when we saw him making his way through hay with the phone in hand. Glenn looked thoroughly confused by what was happening. He had no idea what we were all doing in the hay fields or why we were so enthusiastically celebrating him, but he went with it and his confused grimace relaxed into a confused smile.

Maggie, of course, was the living form of extra when she saw Glenn. She screamed out his name—somehow stretching the one syllable to three, ran down the porch stairs, practically tossed Nugget to Rick, jumped into Glenn's arms, wrapped her legs around his waist, and kissed him as if she hadn't just spent most of the day with him.

Glenn had clearly moved past the shock of impending fatherhood because he held onto her tightly and kissed her back with the same obscene amount of passion.

We all were pleased that Glenn and Maggie were back to being Gleggie, but no one wanted to watch them paw at each other. We left them in the hay and migrated to the barn to discuss what to do about everything we'd set up for Nugget's birthday. Since there was a possibility of rescheduling the party, we decided to leave everything in place.

As I took in the barren scenery around us, I couldn't help but to think about the _should have beens._

Nugget _should have been_ on his second birthday outfit of the day. Children _should have been_ running around and screaming like little maniacs. Rick _should have been_ overcooking burgers on the grill. Daryl _should have been_ pushing little kids out of the way to go down the Slip 'N Slide. I _should have been_ silently cursing whatever Kidz Bop song was playing.

 _Lori and Mike_ _ **never**_ _should have been here to ruin it all._

With that final thought, I felt the undeniable rumblings of my rage. But it didn't have an outlet. Rick and I agreed that today was all about Nugget, so jumping in my car and finding Lori was not an option. The only thing I could do was try to stay calm, and I was only able to do that when I looked over at Rick and Nugget. They seemed to be engaged in a very meaningful conversation that consisted of a lot of gibberish from Nugget and a lot of head nodding from Rick.

The sight of those two instantly quieted the rumblings; my urge to break Lori subsided.

Before I looked away from them, Rick's eyes met mine and he smiled at me. It was a teasing smile to let me know that he caught me staring, so I playfully narrowed my eyes, crossed my arms, and mouthed "it's a free country" in response. His smile grew, but as he looked around it faded.

The _should have beens_ weren't lost on him either.

When our eyes connected again, we agreed that it was time for us to go.

Daryl, Hershel, Annette, Beth and Gleggie sent us off in style when they formed a circle around us, lit sparklers, and sang Happy Birthday to Nugget. He seemed to be more impressed by the sparklers than by the people holding them, but that circle of people meant more to us than I could ever express in words. I didn't know how Lori's return was going to affect us as a whole, but I didn't want what we had to change. Not because of her.

So we dragged out the goodbye.

After I packed the "1st Birthday" cake in my car, I warned Daryl that the next time I saw him he better have my Big Kats and Dr Pepper or else; Maggie warned me that I better figure out my shitting or getting off the pot situation and keep my promise or else; Glenn reminded me and Rick to use our words; Beth taught me a punch-knee-elbow combo; and Hershel and Annette said a prayer with Rick. I'm pretty sure I overheard Annette ask the Lord to cast out no good, deadbeat, hussy demons from our lives, but I may have been mistaken.

There was one last onslaught of hugs and kisses and Happy Birthday wishes for Nugget, and then Rick and I were all set to head to my condo.

That's when things took another turn.

When Rick was trying to strap Nugget into his car seat, his second sugar high of the day decided to make an appearance. My precious little Nugget transformed into a squirming, grabbing, climbing, clinging, kicking, screaming, maniacally giggling little monster right before our eyes. Rick was easily the car seat pro between the two of us, but it took him over twenty minutes to strap Nugget in.

Once we drove off Hershel's property, our ears were assaulted by Nugget's deafening, mile-a-minute gibberish. He drowned out everything—conversation, music, thoughts. All I could do was grip the steering wheel and try not to run red lights.

Rick wasn't having that. After sitting through one red light cycle, he made me pull over so that he could drive. When we got out of my car to switch seats, he let me know that he was about to break a few laws, but he promised to break them in the safest way possible.

Needless to say, we made it to my parking garage in record time.

We suffered through an extremely unpleasant elevator ride before we were finally in the comfort of my condo. I put the cake in the refrigerator, kicked off my Wonder Woman boots, and then joined Rick and Nugget on the couch. Nugget situated himself between me and Rick, grabbed onto our hands, and started bouncing. At the time, I thought he would bounce for five or ten minutes before losing interest or running out of energy.

Yet, here we were thirty-something minutes later.

"Dadu!" Nugget screamed, bouncing up and down and looking at Rick.

"Hi, buddy," Rick said warmly, showing no signs of sugar high fatigue.

"Muhmuh!" Nugget screamed with an excited smile, looking at me.

And that was the look that kept me from running to my room, jumping in bed, and burying my head under the pillows.

"Hi, Birthday Boy!" I said in my best Cookie Monster voice, making him giggle.

"OWCY! OWCY! OWCY! OWCY!" he screamed as he bounced.

When my gaze shifted from Nugget's baby blues to Rick's, he was giving me a raised eyebrow stare saying "This is on you."

I gave him a raised eyebrow stare of my own telling him "Sometimes you have a really crappy day and you need cake. Consequences be damned!"

"Uh huh," he replied.

"It couldn't be helped, Rick," I maintained.

"Uh huh," he said again, shaking his head and smiling as he picked Nugget up.

Nugget reluctantly let go of my hand and scowled at Rick for stopping his bouncy time. When Nugget's tiny lower lip jutted out, I scowled at Rick. That lower lip jut meant another ear assault was coming in the form of a loud, angry shriek.

"Riiiiiiick," I said slowly.

He gave me a wink and then flipped Nugget upside down.

Nugget was stunned into silence. As he looked around trying to process his new upside down world, Rick and I waited anxiously for his reaction. It could go one of three ways: a much louder, angrier shriek than we would have heard in the first place, a delighted squeal, or more owcies.

When he let out a delighted squeal and started happily kicking his legs in the air, Rick looked at me with a big smile.

I grinned at him, very much enjoying the absence of owcies.

"You couldn't have done that twenty minutes ago?" I asked him, lightly kicking his foot.

"Coulda," he said, still smiling. "But this is the first time you looked like you were really gonna make a run for it."

After Rick turned Nugget upright, my eyes feasted on him as he happily danced and giggled in Rick's hands. I didn't realize that Rick had grown solemn until I heard it in his voice.

"You think..." he started to say, looking at Nugget but talking to me.

"Dadu!" Nugget shouted, interrupting him.

He squirmed around impatiently, ready to be turned upside down again. Rick gave him what he wanted, and once he was happily kicking his legs again, Rick continued on.

"I… I made the right call cancelin' the party, right?" he asked, still looking at Nugget.

"Rick," I said tenderly, turning towards him and scooting closer.

"His birthdays keep gettin' screwed up," he said with a heavy sigh, flipping Nugget upright.

"Caw dee tro sha bop!" Nugget laughed out before grabbing Rick's nose.

"Rick," I said, waiting for him to free his face from Nugget's grasp and to look at me before continuing. "You made the right call. They could have come back when he was outside."

The thought of Nugget witnessing their theatrics caused Rick to tense up.

The thought of Lori seeing him and holding him made me tense up.

Nugget, picking up on the tension, stuck his fingers in his mouth and looked back and forth at me and Rick. Hoping to steer him back to his newfound upside down euphoria, I reached out and tickled his tummy. Once he was giggling again, my attention returned to Rick.

"Or..." I said to him, hoping to steer us back to Nugget's euphoria as well.

He let out a deep breath. "Or?" he asked.

"Or they could have come back when more than just family was there. You invited your Gymboree crew, so you know you would've been the talk of Gymboree if they'd witnessed anything," I said mockingly. "For at least a week."

A good ten seconds passed before Rick relaxed.

"More like a month," he said with a small smile. "They do like to gossip."

I scoffed at Rick's use of "they", as if he wasn't the captain of the Gymboree gossip ship.

"Well, I'm sure Jessie would have your back," I said half-jokingly, tickling Nugget again.

Rick looked at me pointedly and then rolled his eyes. "Stop. You know she wouldn't. Not after you and Maggie traumatized her."

"We did not traumatize her!" I interjected.

"And she and Jerry are a thang now anyways," he said, ignoring me. "Her pie won him over."

I laughed. "I'm sure her pie did," I said with a smirk.

"Really, Michonne? In front of the baby?" he asked with a head tilt, though his eyes were lit with laughter. "Mind out of the gutter please."

"Never," I said, smiling.

It had only been a couple of months since I confronted Jessie in her gym's locker room, but after today's events that seemed like ages ago.

"Seriously though," I said, returning to our original conversation. "You made the right call canceling. It's the call I would've made."

Rick stared at me to be sure I wasn't telling him what I thought he wanted to hear. Satisfied that I wasn't, he slowly nodded his head.

I studied his profile when his gaze returned to Nugget. The fear that he had again let Nugget down was etched all over his face. I wouldn't allow him to beat himself up over something he'd done to protect his son, so if I had to continue to reassure him that he made the right call, I would.

A stray hair fell onto his forehead, and I couldn't stop myself from brushing it back into the rest of his hair with my fingertips. Rick, surprised by my touch, jumped slightly but didn't question what I was doing or pull away from me.

My hand continued to travel through his soft brown hair to the curls resting at the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in before slowly releasing it. I watched his face relax and then I cupped the back of his neck, letting my fingers gently play in those curls.

I'd looked at this face for decades. I'd witnessed it change from the chubbiness of boyhood into the handsomeness of manhood. But I was just now realizing, after watching his lips part to let out a barely audible sigh, how perfectly pink his lips were.

When he turned his head towards me and opened his eyes, I averted my gaze and stared at my fingers enmeshed in his curls.

"Mich-"

"Dadu!" Nugget shrieked.

Rick and I looked down at Nugget and watched his comical attempt to turn himself upside down.

I removed my hand from Rick's neck, feeling the silkiness of his curls slip between my fingers. I moved away from him so that there was distance between us again.

"Sorry, buddy," Rick said, turning him upside down.

Nugget's little tushy wiggled with joy, and Rick and I laughed at the spectacle.

"Well that's new," I said to Rick.

"That is new," he replied.

We both knew there was only one person who would have taught him to shake his little booty.

"Beth," we said at the same time, looking at each other.

That stray hair had fallen back onto his forehead, but I kept my hands to myself.

"He's having a fabulous birthday, Rick, and that's what matters right now," I said with sincerity. "You're doing everything you can to make it special for him. You didn't fail him. You didn't let him down."

He stared at me in a way that made my stomach start to flutter, but then he looked down at Nugget.

"Yeah," he agreed. "He did a lot today for there not to have been an actual party. Farm animals with Beth," he said, turning Nugget upright and lifting him up to blow a raspberry on his tummy.

Nugget let out an exuberant laugh.

"He played in the water with Daryl," he said and then blew another raspberry.

Another loud laugh escaped from Nugget.

"He b-"

"Don't you dare say anything related to the B-word, Rick," I said very seriously.

I was not ready for Nugget to resume his "Bouncy! Bouncy! Bouncy!" screams.

"He _jumped_ around with Gleggie," he said before blowing another raspberry.

"Dadu!" Nugget squealed between laughs.

"He ate plenty of frostin' and cake," Rick said, giving me a side-eye as he lowered Nugget. "And I heard he may have even learned a new word today."

I suppressed an eye roll and silently cursed the Greenes and their big mouths.

"You know anythang about that? About a new word he learned today?" Rick asked with a raised eyebrow.

I slowly blinked at him and said nothing.

"That's how you're gonna play it?" he asked with a sly smile. "Can you believe that, Carl?"

"Mo gee go flur chot bah rem frup la," Nugget said in a very matter-of-fact manner, using his hands as he spoke. "Orz grob boo shet pop."

"I agree," Rick said.

"Didn't know you were so well-versed in gibberish, Rick."

"Now you know," he said. "And if I'm translatin' correctly, Carl says he wants to thank you for feedin' him so much cake today. And for teachin' him that new word. Isn't that right, buddy? You want your Michonne?"

"Muhmuh!" Nugget screamed, reaching for me.

I happily took him and then eyed Rick suspiciously. "Whatever you're about to do, Richard—don't," I warned him.

He slowly blinked at me.

"Carl!" he whispered enthusiastically. "Hey, Carl!" he whispered again, trying to get Nugget's attention.

Hearing the excitement in his daddy's voice, Nugget stopped trying to grab the M charm on my necklace and looked over his shoulder at Rick.

Rick in turn looked at me deviously. "Bouncy! Bouncy! Bouncy!" he chanted loudly.

 _Shit._

Nugget threw his arms up and I quickly grabbed hold of his sides before he began bouncing on my legs.

"Owcy! Owcy! Owcy!" he screamed. "OWCY! OWCY! OWCY!"

Rick put his hands behind his head, stretched his legs out in front of him, and chanted with Nugget.

I looked at the doorway to my bedroom and sighed.

After about fifteen more owcies, I had officially reached my owcy limit for the day. I gave Rick a look that stopped his chanting mid-owcy, and then I flipped Nugget upside down. When I held him back up, he giggled and gave me a kiss on my cheek.

"We're even, Rick," I said while Nugget mashed my face between his hands. "For the cake and for the S-H-I-T."

"I don't know, Mich," he replied with a smile. "He's nowhere close to burnin' off all his energy, and my innocent little angel officially has a potty mouth now."

I rolled my eyes. "We're even, Rick. That's that," I told him, pulling one of Nugget's hands from my face and then nibbling the side of his neck.

"Well, if that's that, then I guess we have to call it even," he replied with an amused expression on his face. "I'll even forget about you showin' up with a hangover, and I'll take you off my list completely."

"How considerate," I said as I pulled one of my locs from Nugget's surprisingly strong grip. "But unfortunately for you, Officer Friendly, after the little stunt you just pulled, you're still sitting very high and very comfortably on my list."

I laughed at the exaggerated pout he gave me.

"You gonna tell me what Drunky Baby Giraffe means?" he asked.

"No idea what you're talking about," I said with a straight face.

"Ok, I see how it is. Go ahead and keep your secrets… Little Miss Toilet Nap," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I groaned. The Greenes had exceptionally big mouths.

"Muhmuh," Nugget whimpered.

I looked down at him and smiled from ear to ear when he puckered his lips. He really loved kisses, and I really loved giving them to him. The two of us giggled happily as I covered his sweet face with kiss after kiss.

"I could watch you two for hours," Rick marveled. "But I think I'm overdue for a shower, Mich. You mind?"

"Do I mind if you take a shower? Not at all. As a matter of fact, I insist," I joked.

He was more than overdue for one. He never did get around to showering before the party was supposed to start, and he had worked up quite a sweat after prying Beth off of Lori and spending all that time in the hay looking for his phone.

"Very funny," he deadpanned.

After he remained seated on the couch, I looked at him curiously. "You forget where the shower is?" I asked. "It's through my bedroom… the room that's not the closet."

"You're on a roll," he said, unimpressed. "I haven't forgotten where the shower is, Michonne. But unless you want me walkin' around naked and wet afterwards, I'm gonna need a change of clothes."

I ignored the mental image of a naked and wet Rick Grimes.

"Just wear the pajama bottoms you wore yesterday," I suggested.

"Nah, those are already in the hamper," he said. "I don't wanna dig through dirty clothes when I know you have a clean pair stashed somewhere."

I gave him a look that I hoped said I didn't know what he was talking about, but he was right about me having a stash of his clothes. Although I'd returned three pairs of his pajama bottoms the day I moved out, I also packed a few pairs for the road, as well as some other items.

I would never hear the end of it if I admitted that though.

"I guess I can just continue to sit on this nice, comfy couch in my sweaty shirt and shorts," he said with a shrug. "And I guess this evenin' I can sleep on this nice, comfy couch in my sweaty shirt and shorts."

I sighed. "There's a pair of pajama bottoms in my second dresser drawer," I mumbled.

He smirked. "A shirt would be nice too."

I sighed again. "Third dresser drawer," I mumbled. "One of your old Academy tshirts."

"And if my feet get cold?"

I sighed again. "First dresser drawer," I mumbled. "Socks."

"And underwear?"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be absurd, Rick! I didn't steal any of your underwear."

When it looked like he was about to say something, I cut him off.

"Not a word, Richard. Shower. Now," I ordered.

He got up from the couch and walked backwards to my room with a big smile on his face. "You stole my clo-othes because you'd miss me," he said in a sing-song voice.

If I didn't have Nugget in my arms, I would have thrown a throw pillow at him. "You're never getting off my list!" I shouted instead.

"Totally worth it!" he said with a grin as he closed my bedroom door.

"What's wrong with your daddy?" I asked Nugget in a baby voice.

"Dadu yas bop tick fur int bobo," he explained.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, looking into his bright blue eyes. "Tell me more."

I smiled as he continued to speak to me in gibberish about all the things that were wrong with Rick Grimes.

* * *

 _...30, 31, 32, 33, 34._

It took 34 steps to walk from my kitchen wall to my living room wall.

I knew this because I'd been counting my steps for the last twenty minutes while I paced.

Pacing was keeping me calm.

Pacing was keeping me from jumping in my car and finding Lori.

I turned around to walk the 34 steps back to my kitchen wall.

Rick had been in the shower for almost an hour. Typically, he wasn't a long, hot shower person, but I respected that he needed some time to sort through his thoughts.

For now, I had pacing to sort through mine.

I had pacing to keep me calm.

I had Nugget, too, in a sense. It's just that I had the sleeping, open-mouthed snoring Nugget.

After he and I finished our conversation about Rick, I figured I could handle a few more owcies—it was his birthday after all. But my "Bouncy! Bouncy! Bouncy!" was rejected. He looked at me with the most endearing little pout and said, "No owcy, Muhmuh." Then he stuck his thumb in his mouth and rested his head on my shoulder. About five minutes after that, he was asleep.

I was content to just hold him and watch him as he slept until I received a text from Maggie informing me of a Lori sighting. Maggie's source had seen Lori at a grocery store a few miles from Rick's house. She had apparently purchased frozen, precooked steaks, instant potatoes, canned creamed corn, a bottle of Pinot Noir, and a peach pie.

Nugget's peaceful face and soft snores were no match for my racing mind after I read that text.

So I held him and I paced.

Rick and I were going to have to talk, to really talk, about her. About Lori.

I needed to know what his game plan was with her. He and I needed to figure out how far we were willing to stretch the boundaries of our normalcy for her, specifically when it came to Nugget.

 _30, 31, 32, 33, 34._

I turned to walk back to my living room wall.

I wasn't worried about Rick being swayed by Lori's transparent plan to wine and dine him—that effort would prove to be meaningless. I was worried that _she_ still had meaning to him. His heart had been invested in her for too long for me to believe that she didn't, regardless of what he said about her at Hershel's.

And regardless of the hand Mike played in all of this, it didn't change the fact that she was returning to a house that I moved out of a few weeks ago and she was returning to a man who I stopped co-partnering with as of yesterday.

Everything seemed to be falling into place for Lori. Perhaps I really had been acting as the seat warmer all this time.

"Hey," Rick said softly, bringing my thoughts and my pacing to a halt.

He was leaning in my bedroom doorway wearing the pajama bottoms and tshirt that I'd stolen from him. I had no idea how long he'd been standing there. My thoughts were so loud that I didn't even hear him open the door.

"Stop that," he demanded, walking over to me.

"Stop what, Rick?"

"Stop thinkin' whatever it is you're thinkin'," he said, stopping in front of me and running his hand up and down my arm. "You're gettin' yourself worked up. Probably over somethin' that's just not true."

I stared at him, loving and hating that he knew me so well. "Stay out of my head, Rick Grimes," I whispered.

"Never, Michonne Danvers," he whispered back.

He looked at Nugget draped over my shoulder and took a step closer to us. "He's finally asleep," he said, gently rubbing Nugget's back.

I was about to share our "No owcy, Muhmuh" moment when I recognized a familiar scent. Rick looked nothing but guilty after I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my eyes.

"Really, Rick?"

"I needed lotion, Michonne," he said as if that justified what he'd done.

"So you bypassed the cocoa butter and went straight for my expensive, special occasion, no longer in production Victoria's Secret lotion?" I asked.

"You have to think big picture here," he told me, putting his hands on his hips.

"Enlighten me. What's the big picture?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not ashy."

I stared at him for a beat before rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Oh my God," I sighed out. "You're ridiculous."

"You can live with that," he said, laughing softly and carefully taking Nugget from me.

I instantly missed the weight and the warmth of him.

"You should get out that costume. Take a bath. Get comfortable," Rick said.

The thought was more than appealing. Between the dried cake frosting and all the sweating I'd done today, I was overdue for a bath myself. But we had things to discuss.

"We should talk, Rick."

"We should," he agreed. "We will. But you need to relax first. Get out that costume. Take a bath. Get comfortable. You wouldn't think it, but hot water and soap is better therapy than cake."

I stared at him.

"Don't look at me like that, Michonne," he said with a chuckle before getting behind me and pushing me towards my bedroom. "We'll talk about thangs... about Lori when you're done, ok? Now go."

"So bossy," I mumbled as I walked to my room.

But I was going to do what he said. I would relax and get comfortable, and then we would talk about the one person who I had hoped to never see again.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

* * *

I stared at my face in the bathroom mirror. Annette's tea really had worked wonders. I looked like hell when I had hangover face, but now I looked like me again. A slightly pissed off, slightly stressed out version of me, but me.

Although Rick's assertion that a bath was better therapy than cake was absolute ludicrousness, I did agree that it was therapeutic. I considered letting my rainfall showerhead and body spray jets work their magic on me, but taking a bubble bath in my soaking tub seemed like the better option for my current state of mind.

I monitored the rise of the bubbles through the mirror and then pulled my locs into a high bun. As I was securing my hair, the M charm on my necklace caught my eye. I adored my necklace, and I would never forget the lovely words Rick spoke to me when he gifted me with it.

Since it was still sticky from Nugget, I took it off to clean it. I carefully wiped it down knowing that no other necklace would ever take its place around my neck.

When my tub was finally full of hot water and bubbles, I stepped in, sunk down, and let out a contented sigh. I tried to still my mind after putting on my eye mask and resting my head against my bath pillow, but it took a while before I was able to blank my thoughts out.

No fucking Lori Grimes. No Mike. No anger. No frustration. No fears. No doubts. Just a still, blank mind.

"Hey, Mich?" Rick shouted from the other side of the bathroom door almost immediately after I silenced all thoughts. "You decent?"

I probably should have been annoyed with him for disturbing my Zen, but I wasn't in the least bit bothered.

"I'm decent! Come in!" I shouted, not bothering to remove my eye mask since a blanket of bubbles covered everything except my head and neck.

I heard Rick open the door and then take a few steps into the bathroom.

"Just checkin' to see if you were hungry. It's close to 5, and we haven't had much to eat today."

Besides my hangover breakfast, the only other thing I'd eaten was cake. Rick had eaten less as far as I knew.

"I'm starving," I told him. "You cooking?"

"I'm dialin'," he replied with a chuckle. "Chinese ok?"

My mouth watered at the thought of spicy crispy beef, fried rice, and an egg roll. "That's perfect."

"Good, cuz I already ordered. Got your usual," he said.

I turned my head towards him and smiled. "Thanks, Rick."

I waited for him to respond. When he didn't, I raised my eye mask. He was standing in the middle of the bathroom and was just staring at me.

"Anything else?" I asked, feeling self-conscious.

"Nuthin' else. I just like seein' you this way," he said.

I instinctively looked down to see what exactly he was seeing. The bubbles still covered me, but by the time my eyes returned to his we both were very much aware that the bubbles were the only thing separating my naked body from his view.

"Relaxed. I mean I like seein' you so relaxed," he said, turning a shade of pink. "Because you looked so upset before. And now you look so relaxed."

"It's not cake, but.. yeah," I said just to say something.

He cleared his throat. "Ok, so, I'm gonna go and leave you to it," he mumbled, looking at anything but me and walking towards the door. "Take your time in here. I'll keep it hot for you... your food, I mean. I'll keep your food hot for you... if it's delivered… while you're still in-"

His sentence was cut off when he closed the door behind him.

I stared at it for a few seconds before pulling my eye mask back into place and trying to get back to my still, blank mind.

" _I just like seein' you this way."_

I smiled and then rolled my eyes at myself under my eye mask.

"Get it together, Michonne," I whispered.

Eventually, I was able to relax enough to return to nothingness in my mind. Then the doorbell rang and all I could think about was my spicy crispy beef.

"Go ahead and start eating without me," I said to Rick after I heard the bathroom doorknob twisting and the door opening. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Michonne, it's me!"

"Maggie?" I asked, raising my eye mask.

Her hand was in my face.

Her left hand.

With a diamond ring on the third finger.

I looked up into Maggie's excited green eyes, and we both screamed.

"What?! How?! When?! What?!" I asked, grabbing her hand and gaping at the ring.

"It just happened!" she exclaimed. "Not _just_ happened, but it happened a little while ago!"

"Tell me everything. Now!" I demanded excitedly.

"Ok, so you know how I sent you that text about Olive Oyl?"

Maggie stopped to roll her eyes.

I stifled a groan.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

"A little while after that, me and Glenn were walkin' to the tree swings," she continued. "I could tell somethin' was on his mind—you know how he gets that look. But I know how he is about his words, so I waited for him to find the right ones to say what he needed to say. Then he stops me from walkin', reaches for my hand, and puts somethin' in it."

I looked down at the ring and smiled.

"I knew what it was before I opened my hand. And when I looked at him, he was lookin' at me like I was everythang to him. Everythang he wanted. Everythang he could ever hope for. And I said yes without givin' it a second thought because Glenn is everythang to me. He's everythang I've ever wanted. Everythang I could ever hope for."

Maggie and I looked at each other with tears in our eyes.

"That's so beautiful, Mag," I said, sniffling.

"Maggie Rhee," she said to herself, pulling her hand from mine and looking at the ring on her finger. "Glenn was so shocked when you said I was pregnant, but he was also really worried about Daddy," she said. "Glenn asked him for his blessin' last night. He didn't want him thinkin' he only asked because he knocked me up."

I laughed at Maggie's crassness. "Hershel would never think that," I said.

"I know. And Glenn knows that. He was just really overwhelmed by everythang that was happenin'."

"Wait!" I said, nearly shouting. "Hershel has known since last night that Glenn was going to propose?"

Maggie nodded.

"How in the world did he keep that a secret?"

"No idea," she said with a look of amazement. "Bethy and me got our big mouths from him, so I know it was killin' him."

We laughed at how much distress Hershel must have been in to have kept that secret.

"I take it that Glenn is completely on board with being a daddy?" I asked.

"He is," she beamed. "And you were right. I should've told him when I first found out. I was just so scared, Michonne. But he's already hopin' for a boy. Daddy, too. I know it's a girl though. I just feel it," she said, rubbing her stomach.

I smiled, remembering how I sensed that Carl was a boy before the ultrasound confirmed it. And then I said a silent prayer for Glenn. A mini-Maggie was already making my eye twitch a little.

"We're thinkin' we'll get married as soon as Daddy's leg is healed so he can walk me down the aisle," she said, staring at her ring again.

I did the math on that. Hershel said he had twelve to sixteen more weeks in his cast. Certainly, he'd need physical therapy once his cast was off—maybe a solid month.

I resisted the urge to rub the bridge of my nose. Maggie was going to be a very pregnant bride.

"And if I'm gettin' married…"

 _Oh no._

" _..._ I'm gonna need..."

 _Oh please no._

"… a maid of honor."

I swallowed hard. Images of Maggie in all of her hormonal bridezilla glory flashed before my eyes.

"Michonne," she said, squatting until we were eye-to-eye. "I love you. You're my best friend. Be my maid of honor."

"Maggie, that's… that's… But what about Beth?" I asked. "She's your sister. You sure you don't-"

I stopped talking when Maggie's face crumbled.

I accepted my fate as her maid of honor when tears started rolling down her cheeks.

"Y-you're my s-s-sister, too, M-michonne. Say y-y-yes."

I felt my eye twitch. "Yes."

Maggie squealed and wrapped her arms around me. "I'm so happy!"

"I'm so happy for you, Mag!" I told her as she stood up to brush the bubbles off of her top and wipe the tears from her face. "But where's Glenn? Shouldn't you be celebrating with him and not here with me?"

Maggie looked at me earnestly before walking over to the bathroom counter, pushing my things aside to clear space, and sitting on it.

"Michonne, family sticks together in a time of crisis. We want to be here with you and Rick and Carl. Bethy's here, too. We're gonna help you figure out what to do about that bitch."

"Maggie," I heard Glenn groan.

The bathroom door was open but I didn't see him.

"Glenn?" I called out.

"Hey, Michonne!" he replied, waving his hand in the doorway.

"You've seen her placenta, Glenn! You can handle seein' her under some bubbles," Maggie said in exasperation.

"No, Maggie," he groaned. "I'll wait here."

"Congratulations, Glenn!" I shouted.

"Thanks!" he said with a smile in his voice. "We brought pizza. The spicy sausage, pineapple, jalapeño that you like."

"Thin crust?" I asked.

"Thin crust," he confirmed.

I loved my friends. They were so supportive and loving and thoughtful and-

"You make good on that promise yet?" Maggie asked with a suggestive look.

I grabbed my eye mask and put it back on.

"Bye, Margaret. Thanks for stopping by to chat. Close the door on your way out."

"I didn't think you had," she retorted. "There's no way Rick would still look so stressed out if you-"

"BYE, MARGARET," I repeated.

"Bye, Michonne," she sang out as the door closed.

I silently cursed myself for making that promise.

When I heard the doorbell ring a short time later, I took it as a sign that I should get out of the tub. I wasn't concerned about Gleggie and Beth—they had Rick and Nugget to keep them company, but the Chinese food was probably being delivered and the pizza was probably getting cold.

Instead of getting out, I turned the faucet on with my toe to add more hot water to the tub. Thoughts about my maid of honor responsibilities had me very concerned about the future state of my mental well-being.

I was surprised when I heard a knock on the door because I immediately recognized it as Daryl's.

"Do you have my Big Kats?" I shouted.

I kept my eye mask on after I heard the door open.

"Yeah, Michonne."

"Ten? King-sized?"

"Yeah, Michonne," he said, and I knew he was rolling his eyes.

"And a bag of minis?"

"And your bag of minis,"

"And my-"

"And your damn pop!"

"Good. You are forgiven for your transgression," I said, pleased with my new stash.

He grunted in annoyance.

"Hey, hurry up in here," he told me when he was done grunting. "We brought burgers and fries. Got you your blue cheese and bacon, extra pickles, no mustard."

I lifted my eye mask to look at him.

" _We_?" I questioned. "As in..."

"Yeah, she's here," he said casually. "Figured she could us help figure out this Lori shit."

"And why didn't you lead with that, Daryl?" I asked testily.

"You're the one that asked about the Big Kats," he said defensively.

I crossed my arms over my chest even though the bubbles still covered everything.

"Daryl, don't you think your girlfriend might find it peculiar that you're in my bathroom right now? While I'm taking a bath?" I asked as if he had comprehension problems.

He looked at me incredulously and then disgustedly.

"She knows what you and Rick mean to me. Besides, even if you were my type, I could never be with you like that. Not when I know how big your hole is. She knows that."

My jaw dropped.

"She knows _what_ , Daryl?"

"That your hole is huge. As big as a human head," he said, grimacing at the thought.

"It was a baby human head," I said through gritted teeth. "And it's normal-sized now."

"If you say so," he said with a shrug.

I hadn't even met this woman, but she thought I was walking around with some type of hideously deformed, oversized...

"Stop spreading lies about my vagina!" I shouted, throwing my washcloth at him.

"Calm down, crazy!" Daryl shouted back, throwing the washcloth at me.

When he realized that I was searching for my soap in the water to throw at him, he ran out the bathroom. After a few minutes, he knocked on the door again but didn't open it.

"Sorry I said anythang about your… normal-sized… hole," he said on the other side of the door.

By the way he paused, I knew he used air quotes when he said normal-sized. I narrowed my eyes.

"Daryl?" I called out sweetly.

Because he knew I wanted to throw soap at him, I knew he wouldn't come back in. But I didn't need to see him to threaten him.

"Listen carefully," I said after he opened the door just a crack. "You are going to stop mentioning my vagina to any and everyone you cross paths with, ok?"

He grunted.

"Because if you don't, I'm going to start mentioning to everyone you know—Gleggie, the Greenes, your motorcycle club, your coworkers, your new girlfriend, and all of your Instagram followers, that you used to have that crush on Paula Abdul when we were kids. You remember that, D? Remember how you learned all of MC Skat Kat's lyrics from Opposites Attract? And how I caught you-"

"Alright, Michonne. Damn," he said.

"I have photo evidence, D. Don't make me use it."

He grunted again.

"Glad we understand each other. You can go now. And send Rick in here," I said.

I knew he was sulking by the way he slammed the door.

I finished bathing, wrapped myself in a towel, and grabbed my cocoa butter. Rick walked into my bedroom right as I left the bathroom.

"Everything ok?" he asked.

I heard Nugget giggle before he closed my bedroom door.

"He's awake?"

"Too many visitors to not be," he said.

I groaned. He was going to be fussy later.

"Very fussy," Rick agreed. "Everything ok between you and D? He looks so sad."

"He'll be fine," I said. "He's just upset because he can no longer talk about the Eighth Wonder of the World that is apparently my vagina."

He laughed. "How'd you shut him up?"

"MC Skat Kat," I said with a smirk.

He laughed again.

"So what does she look like, Rick?" I asked, sitting on my bed and putting lotion on my legs.

He sighed. "I'm not gonna stand here and gossip with you about Daryl's girlfriend, Michonne."

"You don't get to be principled right now. You gossip all the time with Daryl and Glenn," I said in disbelief, crossing my arms and then my legs. "You three have probably gossiped since D got here."

"I don't care to dignify that with a response," he replied with faux indignation before his glance swept over me. "Just put some clothes on and come meet her."

"Fine, Rick," I said, getting up and walking to my closet. "What do you think I should wear?"

"I'm in my pajamas, 'Chonne. I don't think it matters."

"Correction, you're in my pajamas, Rick," I said, turning around. "Everything you're wearing is on loan. And first impressions always matter."

We heard the doorbell ring but knew that Daryl or Gleggie would answer the door.

"So put some pajamas on and make a bad first impression with me," he replied with a smile. "And FYI, you may have already made your first impression."

I searched my mind for something she may have witnessed me doing or saying at Hershel's.

"Did she see me when I was hungover?" I asked.

"Nah, not that. We all just heard you shout at Daryl… about spreadin' lies about your vagina."

 _Oh my God._

"Yo, Rick!" Daryl shouted, pounding on my bedroom door.

"Chinese food must be here," Rick said. "Hurry up! You have a whole spread waitin' for you. Burgers, and pizza, and chocolate. Oh, and heads up—Maggie's two candy bars in on your Big Kats."

"Shit," I muttered. "There's no stopping a pregnant lady though, is there?"

"Not that pregnant lady," he said with a head shake.

He turned towards the door and then looked back at me. "Hey, I know we have company, and everyone wants to help out, but we'll talk about Lori later. Just you and me, ok?"

"Ok," I nodded. "I'll be out in just a minute. Try to distract Maggie from my Big Kats if you can."

"RICK!" Daryl shouted, pounding on the door again.

"Comin'!" Rick called out. "See you in a few," he said to me before leaving my bedroom and closing the door behind him.

I made short work of making myself presentable. I finished putting on lotion, and then I returned to my bathroom to put on my necklace, to put on some deodorant, and to brush my teeth and wash my face quickly. Since I had already made a first impression, I decided to wear my I Love Cat Naps pajamas.

I was heading to my bedroom door when I heard some type of thudding noise followed by raised voices.

I rushed to my door and flung it open after I heard Nugget start to scream.

 _What in the hot holy hell?_


	16. Bitches Be Crazy (part 4)

**A/N: The Bitches Be Crazy saga continues! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **16\. Bitches Be Crazy (part 4)**

Mike Anthony was standing in my condo.

If that wasn't bad enough, he was standing in my condo with that infuriatingly smug expression on his face and directing it at Rick.

Rick was ferociously trying to charge at him but was being held back by Daryl.

Beth was hurling insults at him but we was being held down on the floor by Gleggie.

And a woman who I didn't recognize was holding Nugget as far away from her as possible.

I grabbed Nugget from her and cradled his red, tear-streaked face against my chest, but he pushed away from me to look at his dad and then continued to scream at the top of his lungs.

"Michonne," Mike said, taking a step towards me.

"You don't talk to Michonne! You don't look at Michonne! You don't think about Michonne!" Rick shouted furiously.

I held onto Nugget, too shocked by everything happening to formulate words.

"Rick, you should be thanking me," Mike said condescendingly. "I located your wife and facilitated her return for you. I did that for you."

"For me? You did that for me?" Rick shouted, turning an alarming shade of red. "You did that for you!"

"You're welcome, Rick," Mike said, apparently feeling bold enough to be cocky because of how Daryl was holding Rick back.

Rick looked like he was about to explode, and Daryl looked like he was about to lose his hold on him.

"He's not worth it!" Daryl pleaded with Rick.

After Rick tried to push Daryl into the wall to free himself, Daryl swiftly maneuvered himself behind Rick and put him in a choke hold. Rick slowly started to fall to his knees.

"I'll break your jaw! Kick your teeth in!" he threatened in a strained voice on his way down.

"DADU!" Nugget wailed as I shielded him from the sight of his dad.

"Let… me… go!" Rick grunted out.

"Michonne," Mike said, turning towards me. "I-"

"Just leave, man," Glenn said, standing up to address Mike.

Mike let out an agitated sigh. "I'm here to speak with Michonne," he said snidely. "I will not be brushed aside because, once again, you people can't seem to control yourselves."

Mike looked at me. "I don't understand why you continue to associate yourself with this caliber of people, Michonne."

Rick grunted out something unintelligible.

"It's not going to end well for you if you stay," Glenn simply stated.

Mike looked Glenn up and down and looked away dismissively.

I knew why he was disregarding Glenn's warning. There was a noticeable height difference between the two, with Glenn standing at about 5'9" and Mike standing four inches taller. But what really made Glenn seem nonthreatening was his very boyish face under his baseball cap.

Mike looked at Maggie and Beth and chuckled to himself. "Do you plan to sic her on me if I don't leave?" Mike asked Glenn, nodding towards Maggie.

"Go to hell, you little dick bastard!" Maggie shouted while pinning Beth down in some type of a wrestling move.

"You prick!" Beth shouted, unable to do anything else.

Mike hadn't noticed it—I wasn't even sure if Maggie had, but something changed in Glenn's face. His overall demeanor still appeared to be both calm and cool, but I saw the subtle way that his mouth tightened and his jaw clenched.

And then Glenn, just as calm and cool as can be, punched Mike square in the nose.

"Glenn!" Maggie screamed, jumping up.

I was concerned that Beth was loose, but she jumped up to join Maggie in holding Glenn back.

 _What the shit is happening?_

Mike was holding his bloody nose and moaning in pain.

Glenn was staring at Mike with a look that could kill.

Maggie and Beth were screaming at Glenn to calm down.

Rick was grunting out threats to Mike.

Daryl was screaming at Rick to calm down.

"This pendejo shows up and all hell breaks loose," the woman next to me said, digging in her purse.

I felt Nugget's tears soaking my top, and as much as I hated to have to put him down, I wouldn't be able to deal with this chaos with him in my arms.

"I'll be right back," I said to the woman, at last finding my voice. "I need to put him in his cr-"

"Found it," she said, dropping her purse to the floor. "Callate la boca, pendejo!" she shouted, walking to Mike and then holding something to his neck.

There was a very distinct crackling sound before Mike's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell face-first to the floor.

Everyone was deathly quiet, staring at Mike's unmoving body.

"Daryl?" Beth finally asked. "Did your girl just kill Mike?"

"R-Rosita?" Daryl stuttered from Rick's back.

"It's just a stun gun. He'll be out fifteen, twenty minutes tops," she said indifferently.

Everyone seemed to be at a loss for words until Nugget looked at me with his big, blue, watery eyes.

"It!" he shouted.

* * *

Gleggie and Beth were wrong. Rosita Espinosa wasn't scary. She was a fucking nightmare.

Because of her, I ended up doing something I hated—waiting in the ER, with someone I hated—Mike.

Although Rosita said that Mike would only be out for fifteen or twenty minutes, I was in no way comfortable with waiting that long for him to regain consciousness. I started panicking after a minute of staring at his lifeless-looking body, but with Glenn's help I was able to confirm that he still had a pulse and was breathing. Though he was also steadily bleeding from his nose, he wouldn't wake up.

For unknown reasons, Rosita had smelling salt in her purse, which she reluctantly allowed us to use. She seemed to take offense that we weren't trusting her judgment and waiting the full twenty minutes for him to come to, but I didn't want to have to live with the memory of Mike's dead body on my floor just to appease her.

After I caught her glaring at me, I promptly instructed Daryl to escort her bad attitude-having, frowny-faced, eye-rolling ass out of my condo.

Although the smelling salt brought Mike back to consciousness, his disorientation was so unsettling that I had no choice but to take him to the ER. Rick offered to go too, but I didn't trust his temper not to flare up once Mike was completely coherent. And then there was Nugget. He didn't want to be separated from his daddy, and I was not about to allow him to be exposed to who knows what in the ER.

Rick seemed uneasy about me leaving with Mike, but he agreed that it wasn't a good idea for Nugget to go to the hospital. So I left with Mike.

Less than five minutes after he and I arrived at the ER, a man came rushing in, hollering about someone trying to bite off his dick. I wasn't certain, but I think he was the same man who had the curling iron burn on his face the last time I was there.

I very much regretted telling Rick to stay home.

I really, really hated the ER.

I ended up waiting with Mike for almost two hours before he was seen. I waited another hour while he was examined. I waited close to an hour after that for his nose to be treated.

Other than his broken nose, the bruising on his neck from the stun gun, and some light bruising on his body from his fall, Mike suffered no other injuries. As a precaution, he was admitted to the hospital for overnight only time I spoke to him was to ask him two questions before I left the hospital. Those two questions were the only reasons I'd been there for over four hours silently fuming.

The first question I asked was: "Are you pressing charges?"

Mike wasn't just a man who had been assaulted and now had medical bills, he was an attorney who had been assaulted and now had medical bills. I knew how potentially messy things could get. While I could live with it if he pressed charges against Rosita, the same could not be said if he pressed charges against Glenn.

The second question I asked was: "Are you going to continue to be a problem for me?"

It was more of a warning than a question. A warning that if he continued to insert himself into my personal life in any way—by calling me or showing up unexpectedly at my home or continuing whatever partnership he had with Lori, then things would absolutely end very, very badly for him. Not because of anything my friends could do, but because of what I would do.

He answered no to both questions.

Maybe he answered no after deducing that it was best to move on and cut his losses. Or maybe he was motivated to say no because of how tightly I squeezed the bridge of his broken nose while waiting for his answers.

It didn't matter to me. I left the hospital satisfied that I would no longer have a Panty Man problem.

It was a little after 10pm when I made it back to my condo. I was tired, cranky, and hungry, but I had no one to commiserate with since Gleggie and Beth had gone back to the farm and Rick and Nugget were asleep in my bedroom. Rick had turned on a night light for Nugget, so there was just enough light for me to make out Nugget's sleeping form in his crib and Rick's sleeping form in my bed.

Even when they were asleep, those two managed to make me feel infinitely better. I was so glad they were here.

Since I was too tired to do anything about being hungry and cranky, I decided to call it a day. I tiptoed through my room to get to my dresser, but as I crept past Nugget, I was overcome with a feeling of sadness. I wanted one last birthday cuddle with him, but that wasn't possible now that he was asleep.

"Happy Birthday, Nugget," I whispered, looking down at him.

I fought the urge to run my finger down his perfect little cheek, and I forced myself to continue tiptoeing to my dresser. I carefully pulled open a drawer to take out the cat nap pajamas that I'd worn earlier, and then, keeping my back to Rick and Nugget, I started to undress. I took off my sandals, my jeans—which was quite the struggle because of how tight they were, my tank top, and then my bra.

After I put on my pajamas, I rubbed the bridge of my nose and shook my head.

 _What a day._

I left my clothes in a pile on the floor and exhaustedly turned around to head to bed. When I noticed a pair of blue eyes staring at me, I grabbed my chest and jumped in surprise.

"Jesus, Rick!" I whispered. "I thought you were sleeping!"

He cleared his throat. "I-I just woke up."

I shushed him and pointed at the crib.

"Sorry," he whispered, sitting up. "Is me bein' in here ok? I can go to the couch if you want."

"Stay. You just startled me," I said quietly as I walked to the bed.

I pulled back the covers and sat next to him with my back against the headboard.

"I didn't see anything," he whispered. "Just now, I mean."

My cheeks instantly started burning.

One of Rick's tells when he was lying was that he didn't speak with his Georgian twang. His pronunciation of anything just gave away that he had in fact seen me strip down to my very unflattering cotton brief panties in very unflattering lighting.

But, if I was being honest with myself, I was more happy that he was awake than bothered by his peeping. Tired or not, I wanted to talk.

"So that was Daryl's girlfriend," I said, keeping my voice low and changing the subject.

"Yeah, that was her. She's-"

"She's not right for Daryl," I hissed. "I can't deal with any more crazy, Rick. You need to talk to him. She. Has. To. Go."

When he didn't immediately agree with me, I turned my head to stare at him.

"Was she really that bad?" he asked.

"Rick!" I whispered sharply. "I need you to look past the fact that she used a stun gun on Mike. I know that makes her your hero, but she is clearly unstable. You want someone like that around Nugget? Around Daryl? Around us? She's a fucking psycho!" I said, no longer whispering. "And I didn't care for the way she was holding Nugget," I said, getting louder. "She-"

"Shh," he whispered loudly, putting his arm around me so that he could cover my mouth with his hand.

I narrowed my eyes at him but stopped talking.

"You gonna stay calm and quiet if I move my hand?" he asked.

"Yyy," is how my yes came out.

He removed his hand slowly, not trusting that I was being truthful about staying calm and quiet.

"I don't like her, Rick," I said as calmly possible after he pulled his arm from around me. "Unpleasant to be around. Violent tendencies. No chemistry whatsoever between her and D. She's not the one for him."

"Michonne?" Rick asked in a gentle voice as he gingerly placed his hand on top of mine. "You sure this isn't about the chocolate bar?"

I rolled my eyes and snatched my hand from his.

"Of course it's also about the chocolate bar, Rick!" I whisper-shouted. "Who gave her permission to eat one? She knew Daryl bought those Big Kats for me. I only have six bars left."

"Six king-sized bars," he said.

"Not the point."

"And an unopened bag of minis," he pointed out.

"Still not the point, Rick," I huffed.

It wasn't just that she'd greedily eaten my chocolate bar, but she ate it after she stunned Mike. Who gets a chocolate craving after stunning someone?

There were too many red flags to ignore. She was not one of us. She never would be one of us.

"For the record, Mich," Rick said, lightly bumping my shoulder with his. "I don't like her either. I'll talk to D."

I didn't really think a talk was necessary. Daryl didn't like drama, and Rosita was clearly drama. I'd be surprised if he hadn't already ended things. Rick talking to Daryl was for my benefit. I wanted to know where Daryl's head was before I ripped him to shreds for bringing that woman into my home.

"So…" Rick sighed out. "I take it Panty Man is still alive and kickin'?"

"He is," I said dryly. "But we won't have to worry about him anymore."

Even in bad lighting, I couldn't miss the look of relief on Rick's face. I wasn't sure if I should have been offended, confused or outraged by it.

"Did you think something was going to change between me and Panty Man at the hospital?" I asked, settling on being confused.

He looked down at his hands in his lap and shrugged. "I know it probably didn't mean anythang, but… I don't know, you just seemed really concerned about him. More than I thought you would be," he said, shrugging again.

I understood how it may have looked to Rick, but he was mistaken about why I was so concerned about Mike.

"You saw him after he came to, Rick," I said. "He could barely say his name. He could barely walk. But please don't confuse my concern for him with me caring about him. I need Mike Anthony alive, able-bodied, and with all of his mental faculties fully intact. For reasons of my own."

Rick's eyes widened as he stared at me. "Am I gonna have to bail you outta jail?" he asked without a trace of humor.

I scoffed. "As if I'd give up my freedom for him."

He stared at me with a worried expression on his face.

"Rick, I'm not going to do anything that will result in me being arrested," I told him.

"Good. Because I don't have that kind of money saved, Michonne. You'd be takin' from Carl's college fund if I have to bail you out. I'd probably have to sell my truck too," he said.

"Rick..."

"And if I sell my truck, I won't be able to get Carl to and from school—well, when he starts goin' to school. I guess I could always homeschool him. He's not goin' to college anymore anyways so it's not like I have to be good at teachin'."

"Rick! Stop," I said, smiling. "I'm not going to jail. You won't have to bail me out. You get to keep your truck. And Carl will go to college."

"You promise?" he asked.

"I promise. Ok?"

He smiled at me. "Ok."

We were sitting quietly when Rick's shoulders started shaking with silent laughter. "Can you believe Glenn threw that punch?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

I shook my head in disbelief. "When our moral compass starts throwing punches, you know shit has hit the fan," I said. "How's his hand?"

"It's fine. Maggie took care of it. How's your hand?" he asked.

I held it up and clenched and unclenched it. "It's fine. Back to full slapping strength," I joked. "How's your throat?"

He grunted. "It's fine. But Daryl knows choke holds are illegal. Asshole."

"He had to do what he had to do, Rick. You were a little out of control. And I think breaking jaws and kicking teeth in is also illegal, Sheriff Deputy Grimes," I teased.

He rolled his eyes. "All I'm hearin' is that it was a good thang Daryl was holdin' me back because I was outta control. Is that right?"

"That's right," I said.

"So then I shouldn't make him brang me Big Kats and Dr Pepper as an apology?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him before rolling my eyes. "Whatever, Rick," I grumbled.

Daryl was wrong for holding me back from Lori. I probably would've punched her two, maybe three, no more than four times and then walked away. My rage was under control. Rick's rage wasn't. He looked like he was ready to bite Mike's throat out.

"I don't know what happened with Panty Man," he said soberly. "I tried to stay calm, I really did. But he had no business showin' up here. I told him to leave. Daryl told him. Maggie did. He wouldn't. And that asshole just wouldn't stop talkin'. I lost it, Michonne. I just lost it."

I wasn't mad at Rick for wanting to kick Mike's ass, I just didn't want either of us to be so blinded by rage that Nugget was affected by it.

"I didn't mean to scare him," Rick said softly, looking at Nugget's crib. "Or you, if I did. I'm sorry for that."

"I know you are," I said, resting my head on his shoulder. "And Nugget will be fine. We'll just be more mindful of him in the future if things get out of control again."

I lifted my head when Rick raised his arm to put it around my shoulders. Once his arm was resting comfortably, I laid my head back down.

"You hungry?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Pizza and salad or burger and fries?"

I lifted my head again and looked at him. "Was the Chinese food not delivered?"

He cringed. "It was after you left, but Maggie ate it. There's still plenty of pizza left and burgers."

"I don't want pizza or a burger, Rick. I want Chinese food," I pouted.

Rick smiled at me. "Have I told you how adorable you are when you pout?"

"You have. And I already told you that I don't pout," I continued to pout.

"Sure you don't," he said, smiling. "How about this? I'll get you your spicy crispy beef tomorrow, and I'll make sure Maggie is nowhere in the vicinity."

"And an extra egg roll?"

"And an extra egg roll," he said. "In the meantime, what can I get you right now?"

My stomach had really been set on Chinese food, so the idea of eating pizza or a burger wasn't at all appealing.

"Can you just bring me an apple?" I asked.

"I can," he said, getting out of bed.

A few minutes later he returned.

"One apple, cored and sliced, for the lady," he said, presenting me with apple slices on a paper towel.

I gave him an appreciative smile before taking the paper towel from him.

"Thanks, Rick," I said, popping an apple slice into my mouth. "Hey," I said after swallowing. "I'm giving your foul mouth a pass tonight, but we need to start that swear jar tomorrow."

Rick tilted his head. "Don't you mean you're givin' _our_ foul mouths a pass tonight? Did you not just say, and I quote, 'She's a fucking psycho'?"

"Swear jar. Effective tomorrow," I said, ignoring him.

Rick rolled his eyes and mumbled something about me being bossy under his breath.

I finished the rest of my apple, and when Rick got back in bed after throwing away my paper towel he was smiling.

"Remember when we got our first apartment, Mich? Right after high school?"

"How could I forget?" I asked. "You, me, and D! I wanted to call it our CrazySexyCool pad, but you two wouldn't let me."

"That's because you claimed the sexy and left me and Daryl to argue over who was the crazy and who was the cool, Michonne."

I laughed because Rick and Daryl really did argue for days over who was the crazy one and who was the cool one.

"And remember how after we signed the lease you made me and Daryl take you to the store to get those glow in the dark stars?"

"I didn't make you," I scoffed.

"You did. And you got like 500 stars!"

I shifted so that I was facing him. "Rick, you know I started begging my parents for glow in the dark stars when we were in the sixth grade," I said. "And year after year, what did they say?"

"They said no," he mouthed as I said, "They said no."

"So maybe I went a little overboard when I bought all those stars, but they were always the first thing I planned on getting once I had my own place."

"A little overboard?" Rick asked. "You know what? Maybe you weren't really the sexy at all. Maybe you were the crazy."

"Ha ha," I deadpanned.

"It must've taken two hours to get those stars placed just right because of how particular you were," he said, pulling a face at the memory. "And then you made us wait in that apartment for it to get dark. No furniture. No tv. No radio. Just us and the carpet."

"I didn't make you do anything, and waiting in our apartment wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be."

"Michonne, Daryl was so bored he escaped outta the bathroom window."

I laughed at the memory. "He did, didn't he? But after six years of waiting, I wanted to be there to witness the magic as it happened."

"And yet you fell asleep," he smirked.

That was true. Conversation was the only entertainment we had, but Rick managed to bore me to sleep when he droned on about Lori and how upset she was to not have graduated with us. During our senior year, she focused more on learning cheerleading routines than actually learning. Surprisingly, she only failed History and Home Economics.

Lori's father put her under house arrest until she passed those classes and graduated, so her first summer as an adult was spent attending summer school classes and performing chores instead of hanging out with her boyfriend in his new apartment. It was a fantastic summer.

"I wasn't the only who fell asleep," I reminded him.

"Because I didn't have anyone to talk to," he retorted.

I suspected that his thoughts about Lori had bored him to sleep as well.

"But remember when we woke up?" I asked, trying to hold in my laughter.

"How could I forget? The apartment was completely dark except for that creepy neon green glow comin' from under your bedroom door."

"It was so much worse in the actual bedroom!" I said, grabbing one of my pillows to laugh into it. "It was so bright we needed shades!"

"And then you refused to sleep in there. Kicked me outta my room and made me sleep on the couch once we moved our stuff in," Rick grumbled. "You know we lost our deposit because of you."

"We lost our deposit because of a missing screen window in the bathroom. And because of the cigarette burns Daryl put in the carpet. And because of that bullet in the wall from the time you were drunk and doing a Dirty Harry impersonation," I said.

"And because of 500 glow in the dark stars that wouldn't come off the walls or the ceilin'," he added.

"And because of that," I conceded with a laugh. "So what's your point, Grimes? Where's this story going?"

He shook his head. "Nowhere. No point," he said. "You've had a day. I just wanted to make you laugh."

I smiled at him, loving him for wanting to lift my spirits after having a day. But I didn't need the laugh. Being with him was enough.

"Come here," he said so faintly that I wasn't sure he'd even said anything.

We hugged somewhat awkwardly because we were sitting next to each other, but I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him as tight as I could.

"Everythang's gonna be ok, Michonne," he whispered in my ear.

I wasn't entirely sure that it would be, but I wanted to believe him.

"Rick," I whispered in his ear. "I don't want Carl to see her. Not until we know why she's here and what she wants."

He held me tighter. "She won't," he said.

I let out a sigh of relief that I didn't realize I'd been holding in.

"You know what you're going to say to her?" I asked.

He nodded without elaborating.

"Do you want me there with you when you say it?"

He hesitated before answering. "Of course I do, Michonne."

"But?" I asked him, breaking our hug, but staying close.

"But I just don't know if you should be," he said before letting me go.

"Meaning?"

"Meanin' you're gonna wanna break her jaw and kick her teeth in."

That wasn't a lie.

"She can still communicate if her jaw is broken and her teeth are kicked in," I argued. "She'll still have her hands. She'll be able to write. Maybe learn sign language?"

"Stop," he whispered, shaking his head and smiling. "When did you turn into a Maggie? You used to be such a Glenn. Although I guess Glenn is more of a Maggie now, too."

"What? You don't like the new me?" I asked, pretending to be offended.

He looked into my eyes and smiled. "I like you however you are, Michonne."

I wanted to make a joke about how he couldn't sweet talk his way off of my list, but I just stared at Rick with my heart pounding in my chest.

"It's late," he whispered. "We should probably get some sleep."

I slowly nodded.

"Goodnight, Michonne," he said, leaning over and giving me a kiss on my cheek.

"Goodnight, Rick," I whispered.

I scooted over to what was my side of the bed, but remained sitting up.

Rick got comfortable under the covers and said something about tomorrow, but it was hard to make out anything he was saying over what was now a loud, erratic pounding of my heart.

 _Shit._

For a split second, when he was leaning in to kiss me on my cheek, I thought he was going to kiss me on my lips.

And I was going to let him.

And I was going to kiss him back.

* * *

" _ **I'm scared, Rick," I said.**_

" _ **You don't have to be," he told me.**_

 _ **I looked up, and I didn't know if I was looking into his eyes or the sky.**_

 _ **He held out his hand.**_

" _ **Trust me. Trust in me, Michonne."**_

 _ **Our fingers interlocked. I felt both grounded and electrified by our connection.**_

" _ **On three," he said. "One… two… three!"**_

 _ **We ran hand-in-hand to the edge of a cliff and then jumped.**_

 _ **I turned my head to look at Rick as we fell feet-first.**_

" _ **I believe in Rick Grimes," I said before we hit water.**_

 _ **I sank down and then shot up to the surface. A waterfall paradise surrounded me, but a panic set in when I didn't see Rick. I looked for him, treading water and turning in circles, until I was dizzy.**_

"' _ **Chonne!" he called out from the beach, waving enthusiastically. "I'm right here!"**_

 _ **I swam for what felt like miles and then collapsed on the beach next to him in exhaustion.**_

" _ **You want your Muhmuh?" Rick asked, somehow standing a few feet away from me with Nugget in his arms.**_

" _ **Come to mama,"**_ _ **Lori gushed, appearing out of nowhere and taking Nugget from him.**_ _ **"My sweet, sweet boy.**_ _ **"**_

 _ **Nugget giggled.**_

" _ **Rick! Carl!" I screamed silently.**_

 _ **I got up and tried to run to them, but I was stuck in place. I was sinking.**_

 ** _Lori looked back at me and then reached for Rick, running her bony hand through his curls._**

My eyes popped open and I panted as the image of Lori's bony hand in Rick's curls floated through my mind. By the time my breathing evened out, I couldn't remember enough of the dream to piece together what all had happened, but I remembered enough.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

I was lying on my side and tried to sit up, but Rick's arm was holding me down. At some point after we'd fallen asleep, he must have made his way over to my side of the bed and put his arm over me.

I didn't want to wake him up, but I had to get out of bed. I needed to settle my nerves.

"Rick," I whispered, looking at him over my shoulder. "Rick!"

He pulled me closer and mumbled something against my shoulder before falling back into his deep sleep. I tried to let the rhythm of his breathing soothe me, but I was too far gone for soothing.

My mind was back to racing with thoughts of her.

I squirmed my way from under his arm and tiptoed out of my room. I was trying to decide on whether to eat birthday cake or to pace or to eat birthday cake while I paced when I heard my phone vibrating on the dining room table.

I had a new text message.

 **Maggie:** _Olive Oyl is at Rick's_

She sent the text at 10:17pm. It was now 12:38am.

 **Michonne:** _Are you awake?_

 **Maggie:** _Yup_

 **Michonne:** _How do you know she's at Rick's?_

 **Maggie:** _Annette's friend Birdie lives across the street and 3 houses down from Rick_

 **Maggie:** _She saw Olive Oyl park in the driveway around 8_

 **Maggie:** _She hasn't left the house since_

 **Maggie:** _Gimme a second…_

I walked to my bedroom doorway. Rick was still asleep.

 **Maggie:** _Birdie says the kitchen & liv room lights are still on_

 **Maggie:** _Can meet you there in 20_

 **Michonne:** _NO, Maggie!_

 **Maggie:** _…_

 **Maggie:** _Beth can meet you there in 20_

 **Michonne:** _NO!_

 **Maggie:** _…_

 **Maggie:** _Annette_ _can meet you there in 20_

 **Michonne:** _ALL OF YOU STAY PUT!_

 **Maggie:** _…_

 **Maggie:** _Fine_

 **Maggie:** _Call if you need backup_

 **Maggie:** _And Panty Man is a dick_

Surprisingly, I felt very calm and very focused.

My mind was no longer racing.

My rage now had an outlet.

I tossed my phone on the couch and looked down at my bare feet. All of my shoes were in my bedroom. If Rick woke up while I was getting shoes, he would want to know what I was doing. Then he would talk me out of doing it. He could, and he would.

I looked at my bare feet again. I didn't need shoes to deal with her.

I grabbed my keys off the table.

No distractions. No interference. No interruptions.

Just me and fucking Lori Grimes.

* * *

 **A/N: So yeah, I'm not the biggest Rosita fan. lol. The next chapter should be up soon. Thanks for reading!**


	17. Bitches Be Crazy (part 5)

**A/N: So what had happened was… I honestly thought I was going to post this chapter in May, but what I started writing in April just wasn't clicking. Unfortunately, it took this long for me to write something that clicked. Super frustrating, but that's how the writing life be sometimes. Here's hoping chapter 18 ends up being one of those easy, breezy chapters to write! :)**

 **Thank you for reading, following, favoriting, reviewing, or PMing! And thank you for your patience!**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **17\. Bitches Be Crazy (part 5)**

I sat in my car, gripping my steering wheel.

I'd just pulled up to Rick's house and parked next to what I assumed was Lori's SUV—a far cry from the sporty little Miata she refused to part ways with before Nugget was born.

I drew in a harsh breath and closed my eyes.

Because of where she parked, I was forced to park on the left side of the driveway.

The _left_ side.

I opened my eyes and released a slow, unsteady breath.

I was trying to hold on to the calm I'd felt when I left my condo, but that white-hot rage of mine was burning through it by the second.

My grip on my steering wheel tightened.

 _This..._

My breaths became shorter, faster.

 _This bitch…_

My calm was in ashes.

 _This._

 _Bitch._

 _Parked._

 _In._

 _My._

 _Space_.

I always parked on the right side of the driveway.

Always.

Fucking Lori Grimes pops up out of nowhere and thinks that she can just… that she can just take my space from me?

That she can just take what's mine?

"No!" I growled, yanking my key from the ignition.

I quickly sorted through my keys to find the copy of my house key.

When I couldn't find it, I sorted through them again.

After sorting a third time, I let out a frustrated grunt, clenched my hand around my keys, and pounded my fist on the dashboard.

The key was there. I know it was. I never gave it back. I was never giving it back.

But a red haze was clouding my vision; I couldn't see what was right in front of me.

"Ok," I whispered, rubbing my brow with my thumb. "Ok."

I needed to focus.

I needed to steady my nerves.

I needed to take deep breaths.

I needed to count backwards from 10.

I needed to do something, anything, to regain a modicum of composure.

I glared at the SUV instead.

Because Lori had left the porch and outdoor garage lights on, the SUV was-

My eyes quickly darted from the SUV to the porch lights, then from the porch lights to the garage lights.

 _ **No.**_

 _ **She.**_

 _ **Didn't.**_

I rubbed the bridge of my nose and huffed out a disbelieving laugh.

She left the lights on.

For Rick.

She was so fucking confident he would come running to her that she left the goddamn lights on.

 _That no good, deadbeat, hussy demon bitch!_

I let my keys fall from my hand.

Fuck the house key.

There was more than one way to open a door.

"I'll kick that motherfucker down," I muttered, flinging open my car door and getting out of my car.

My bare feet slapped against concrete as I stormed my way to the front door. When I stood in front of it, I planted my feet in a kick stance.

"One..." I whispered, zeroing in on the area of the door next to the lock.

"Two..." I whispered, extending my kicking leg back.

But before I could count off the three and start kicking that motherfucker down, my logical and sensible sides pierced through my anger, begging to be heard.

I sighed heavily but relaxed my kicking stance. I had no choice but to hear myself out.

Once I kicked this door down, I'd be labeled as one of those women. One of those ran out of fucks to give women who openly lost her shit. One of those pushed to the limit women whose behavior teetered between feral and unhinged. One of those "angry black women" women who was somehow scarier than any other angry woman.

I was very proud of the reputation I'd built at the law firm and within the community. Was the risk of tarnishing my reputation truly worth the reward of beating Lori's ass?

And what about Rick?

I hated when things were bad between us, but my actions would undoubtedly create tension. I fully expected him to be at a red-faced, head tilting, eye squinting level of pissed off once he woke up and realized where I'd gone. Coming home to a destroyed front door was not going to douse that fire.

That was assuming I could even destroy the front door.

Yes—I'd taken a few kickboxing aerobics classes when Nugget was 3 months old, but did kickingboxing aerobics maketh me a barefoot kicker downer of doors?

And wasn't I inviting some type of injury if I intentionally and repeatedly kicked a solid oak door? I'd just recently recovered from a sprained ankle suffered after accidentally running into Rick.

I owed it to myself to weigh the potential consequences of my behavior before acting so rashly.

Then again...

 _Shut the fuck up, logic and sensibilities!_

A sullied reputation could be rebuilt; Rick would eventually get over it; and my feet were strong as hell.

I got back into my kicking stance.

"One..." I said resolutely, once again zeroing in on my target kicking zone.

But before I could count off the two, I redirected my gaze to the doorknob. Lori left the lights on because she truly believed Rick was coming home. I bet she hadn't even bothered to lock the damn door.

I relaxed my kicking stance again and reached out to the doorknob.

With a twist and a push, the door opened.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

With my hands fisted at my sides, I stepped forward and crossed the threshold.

It had been two long weeks since I was last inside this house—the house that I'd lived in since I was six months pregnant. If circumstances were different, I would've breathed in its familiarity after taking my first steps back inside. But with circumstances being what they were, the only thing I cared to do was find Lori so that I could hurt Lori.

Without giving it any thought, I flipped the light switch up, as I had done countless times before after entering the house.

My jaw dropped at the sight before me.

I'd never seen the front room like this.

Rick and I always kept it clean and tidy.

Always.

In the event that company stopped by unexpectedly and the rest of the house looked like Hurricane Carl blew through it, the front room was our cover.

But Lori's luggage and bags were scattered everywhere. On the furniture, on the floor, stacked on top of each other, laying on their sides. Clothes and shoes spilled out of some. Others were stuffed to the brim with what looked like toys and baby items.

My already boiling blood boiled more violently.

Lori's bullshit was soiling another thing that was important to me.

With an aggravated grunt, I grabbed the handle of a nearby suitcase and hurled it out the front door and onto the lawn.

 _Fucking..._

I grabbed a duffel bag sitting on the floor and hurled it outside.

 _Lori..._

I snatched a pink tote bag off the entry table near the front door and hurled that outside.

 _Grimes!_

As I was reaching down to grab another tote bag, a picture frame laying face-down on the entry table caught my eye. I threw the tote bag outside and then stared at the frame.

When I was living here, Rick and I used the table as a plant stand. Since I was staring at a frame and not a plant, two things were evident. One—our little bonsai tree had not have survived under Rick's care. And two—the framed photo he replaced it with had pissed Lori off.

I picked up the frame and turned it over.

 _Wow._

I was stunned.

The photo was terrible.

The angle the photo was taken at was odd, the lighting was bad, Rick had an old man confused by technology squint, Nugget was making his "I'm making a poopy" face, and I was a blur talking on my phone.

But as terrible as this photo was—and it was really, really terrible, I understood why Rick chose to frame it and display it.

It was taken on a very special day about four months ago.

* * *

A very special day about four months ago

" _Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream..._ _" Rick sang loudly on his way to the kitchen._

 _I cringed as I smeared honey cinnamon cream cheese on my blueberry bagel. Rick had a very nice singing voice, but that song was going to get stuck in my head. At some point today when I was at work and sitting in a meeting or reviewing a contract or doing something completely unrelated to rowing a boat, I'd start humming it._

 _It had happened before._

 _A few weeks ago when I was sitting in the courtyard on my lunch break, I started humming it while stirring my bowl of leftover chili mac & cheese. When I heard myself, I immediately stopped humming and looked around to see if anyone had witnessed it. Luckily, there was only one person sitting a few seats away from me. He was a new attorney at the firm who I'd been introduced to a few weeks ago—a Mike Arnold or an Anthony Michael or some other combination of two first names. He gave me an unreadable stare before smiling at me and returning his attention to his meal. _

_I was going to kill Rick if I started humming that song today._

" _Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream," Rick sang as he entered the kitchen with Nugget happily bouncing in his arms._

" _Nugget, nooooo," I playfully groaned. "Don't encourage your daddy."_

 _Rick grinned at me and then started singing again. "_ _Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream... Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream."_

 _Nugget cooed and kicked his little socked feet._

 _I sighed loudly and slumped in my chair at the kitchen table._

" _ROW, ROW, ROW_ _your boat, gently down the stream!" Rick sang in a louder voice with an unnecessary amount of gusto._

 _Before he could continue, I picked up the butter knife that I used to spread my cream cheese and held it up like a microphone. "If you continue to sing this song, I am going to screeeeeeeeeeeeam," I sang dramatically._

 _Rick and Nugget stared at me with the same sparkling blue eyes and the same big smiles, and I had no idea how I ever managed to leave them in the mornings._

" _Ehhh… you were a little pitchy, Mich. But since you added jazz hands, I'll stop," Rick said, handing Nugget to me before walking over to the coffee pot. "You need a refill?" he asked after pouring his cup._

 _I shook my head. My cup was almost empty, but I needed a morning fix of the little bundle in my arms more than caffeine. While I was giving the cutest little bundle in the world Eskimo kisses, I noticed Rick trying to discreetly glance at his phone._

 _I knew what he was checking for._

 _We both knew he wasn't going to find anything._

 _She hadn't called or texted in the eight months that she'd been gone. It was beyond ridiculous of him to think she would start doing so at 8:30 in the morning on a random Tuesday._

 _But I kept my mouth shut._

 _The last time I brought Lori up, Rick and I got into a shouting match during game night with Gleggie. In hindsight, maybe I was being slightly immature when I incorporated Lori into our game of Taboo. But the word I needed Glenn to guess was "garbage", and at the time I thought "Lori Grimes" and "Lori Grimes is a walking talking pile of it" were fair clues. Maggie guessed it, but we weren't on the same team so it didn't count._

" _You're gonna be late for work if you spend the rest of your time scowlin' at me instead of finishin' your breakfast," Rick said, sitting down across from me at the table._

 _I ignored him and held my palm out for Nugget to slap his tiny palm against._

" _I can look at my phone, Michonne," Rick said defensively._

" _I d_ _idn't say anything, Rick," I replied in an even tone._

" _But you wanted to," he said._

" _But I didn't," I replied, watching Nugget's hand wrap around my finger._

 _I really didn't want to go there with Rick—not so early in the morning, not before I left for work, and most definitely not in front of Nugget. But I believed with every fiber of my being that Lori Grimes was garbage. That was why Rick's devotion to her was both mind-boggling and infuriating._

 _I was about to tell him as much, but I was distracted by Nugget. He pumped his little fists in the air, blew a spit bubble, and then fell into a fit of giggles after it popped._ _His silliness made me and Rick laugh, which made Nugget giggle louder and longer. After his giggles died down, Rick raised his eyebrows at me, silently asking if we were good. I stuck my tongue out at him, telling him that we were._

" _Act your age, not your shoe size," he said in jest._

" _Up your nose with a rubber hose," I retorted with a smile._

 _I looked down at Nugget who was looking up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes of his and a content smile on his face. I couldn't help but wonder if he was naturally perceptive and understood that Rick and I needed that distraction or if he was just a cutie pie who really enjoyed a good spit bubble._

 _Either which way, I loved him to bits._

 _After I started playfully nibbling on his fingers, Rick started noisily sipping his coffee. When I looked at him, he stared at me and continued sipping. I waited for him to say something, but he didn't. He just kept staring and sipping._

 _I picked up my bagel and stared back at him as I bit into it and chewed._

 _He took a few more sips of his coffee and then set his cup down, still maintaining eye contact._

 _I continued chewing and staring._

 _He put his elbow on the table, rested his chin in his hand, and kept staring._

" _What?" I laughed out with a mouth full of bagel._

" _You tellin' me you haven't noticed?" he asked._

 _I finished chewing and swallowed. "Noticed what, Rick?"_

 _I had no idea what he was talking about._

" _You seriously haven't noticed?" he asked._

 _I must have looked at him blankly because he shook his head at me in exaggerated disbelief, stood up, and motioned for me to hand Nugget over to him. With only about 15 minutes left before I had to leave for work, I did not appreciate him infringing on my very precious Nugget time._

 _Begrudgingly, I handed Nugget over._

" _Stop poutin'. This won't take long," he said, taking a step back and holding Nugget up. "What do you see?"_

 _I quickly noticed what I'd somehow overlooked when Rick walked into the kitchen with Nugget._

" _I see trouble," I said affectionately._

 _Rick was wearing a black tshirt with white lettering that read "Big Trouble" and Nugget was wearing a white onesie with black lettering that read "Little Trouble"._

" _You two look adorable," I gushed._

" _How could we not?" he asked with a wink, handing Nugget back to me._

 _I groaned._

" _You're not that cute, Rick Grimes," I told him. "Nugget is 99% of the adorable when you two are together."_

 _I was lying._

 _Rick was more than cute, and he definitely pulled his weight when it came to being adorable. I became aware of those truths in the seventh grade during our third period PE class. Even though I was annoyed with Rick for snapping my training bra before class, we partnered up for sit-ups because we always partnered up. He was holding down my feet and counting out my sit-ups as I completed them, so I knew the exact moment when I started to see him in a different light._

 _It was on my ninth sit-up._

 _On my first through eighth sit-ups, Rick was just Rick—one of my butthead best friends. But on my ninth sit-up, I noticed how his curly mop top seemed to be less moppy and more curly. On my tenth sit up, I noticed how his eyes were a heavenly sky blue color. On my eleventh sit-up, I noticed how nicely his eyelashes framed his heavenly sky blue eyes. On my twelfth sit-up, I noticed how his smile, even with the braces, made my stomach flutter. On my thirteenth sit-up, Rick loudly accused me of farting after he made a fart noise with his mouth. On my fourteenth sit-up, Rick was back to just being Rick again—one of my butthead best friends… with heavenly sky blue eyes._

 _Rick only grew more attractive as the years passed, but I wasn't admitting that to him.  
_

" _You're lyin' and you know it, Michonne. Carl gets all of his cute and adorable from me. This," he said, holding his arms out. "This is his future."_

" _Always so modest," I said sarcastically. "_ _And I don't pout."_

" _Yeah yeah, yeah. I know," he said, sitting back down._

" _So I guess you two are all set f_ _or your day at the zoo," I commented, adding just enough enthusiasm to my voice to hide how I really felt._

 _Rick slightly tilted his head and studied my face._

 _Perhaps I'd missed the mark on sounding enthusiastic._

 _I loved that Rick and Nugget were spending a daddy and son day together, but I had a bad case of the fear of missing outs. The three of us had been to the zoo twice, and the only animal Nugget hadn't seen yet were the penguins. Both times that we'd gone, those little jerks refused to come out of their cave. I had a feeling that today would be the day it happened, meaning I was going to miss Nugget's reaction._

" _You know you're more than welcome to join us," Rick said._

 _I gave Nugget a big kiss on his cheek._

" _I wish I could," I told Rick. "But I have so much on my plate at work today. Back-to-back meetings and-"_

" _Reschedule 'em," he suggested._

" _I can't just reschedule meetings because I want to play at the zoo, Rick."_

" _Why not?" he asked. "Just call in sick."_

 _I gave him a look. Rick was on vacation this week, and Vacation Rick always tried to get me to play hooky._

" _Carl, what do you think?" he asked Nugget._

 _Nugget put his fingers in his mouth._

" _Mhm. I agree," he said. "'Chonne, after conferrin' with Carl, we are now formally demandin' that you spend the day with us."_

" _A formal demand? Wow, that sounds serious," I deadpanned._

" _Oh, it is serious," he said, attempting to look very serious. "So go change into your '_ _Here Comes Trouble' shirt and those itty, bitty, teeny, weeny shorts you like to wear, and come on."_

 _I laughed. "Not happening. Not the calling in sick and definitely not the shorts."_

 _He frowned at me._

" _Wait—what's wrong with the shorts?" he asked with a pout.  
_

" _Those aren't for public viewing, Rick. Until I lose the rest of my baby weight, those are around the house shorts only."_

 _I'd gained a little over thirty pounds when I was pregnant, and so far I'd only lost sixteen of them. I could barely fit into those shorts._

" _What are you talkin' about?" he asked in confusion. "_ _You look great in those shorts."_

" _That's nice of you to say, Rick," I said, not believing him for a second._

" _I'm not just sayin', Michonne. You look... amazin'."_

 _Before I could disagree, he cut me off._

" _You do," he insisted. "You always have. A few pounds doesn't change that."_

 _I smiled, genuinely touched by his words._ _But I still wasn't wearing those shorts in public._

" _So_ _put on your less itty, bitty, teeny, weeny shorts, and come on!" he said excitedly._

" _Rick-"_

" _And you know what I'm thinkin'?" he asked. "Because the weather's so nice and it's so early in the mornin', I bet those penguins come out."_

 _I gave my best impersonation of a head tilting, eye squinting Rick Grimes. "You fight dirty, Richard."_

 _He tried to keep a straight face, but his smile broke through and he gave me a sorry, not sorry shrug._

" _So what's it gonna be?" he asked, reaching across the table and stealing the rest of my bagel. "You goin' to the zoo today with the cool kids? Or are you gonna be a lame-o and go to work?"_

 _Rick whooped in victory after I sighed and rolled my eyes._

" _Your daddy is a bad influence, isn't he?" I asked Nugget._

 _He gurgled and reached out to my face._

" _You should tell your daddy," I told him. "Say, 'Daddy, you are a bad influence.'"_

 _He looked at Rick and then back at me and giggled._

" _Not cool, Michonne," Rick said. "You're always tryin' to get him to talk smack about me. Why don't I ever hear you tell him to say, 'Daddy, you tell the funniest jokes!' or 'Daddy, you do the best impersonation of Cookie Monster!'?"_

" _Don't be shy, baby," I said to Nugget, paying no mind to his daddy. "_ _Say, 'Daddy, you-'"_

" _Dadu!" he shouted._

 _I gasped in surprise and looked at Rick._ _The bagel was hanging limply from his mouth and his eyes were unblinkingly wide._

" _Dadu!" Nugget shouted again._ _"Dadu!"_

 _Rick took the bagel out of his mouth, jumped out of his chair, and got down on one knee beside me and Nugget._

" _Are you?" he asked Nugget. "Did he?" he asked me. "Are you… Are you tryin' to say I'm a bad influence, buddy?" Rick asked Nugget in an excited stupor._

" _Dadu! Dadu! Dadu!" he shouted again, squirming in my hands to get to Rick._

" _That's right," Rick said in a hushed voice, carefully taking Nugget from me. "I'm your dadu."_

 _A pink flush spread across Rick's face as the significance of the moment set in. Nugget had spoken his first word. He was Nugget's first word._

 _Rick looked at me with happy tears threatening to spill from his eyes and he smiled._

" _We officially have a talker," I whispered._

" _We've got us a talker," he said, grabbing hold of my hand._

 _Because Rick had pretty much been MIA the first few months of Nugget's life, I knew how meaningful this was. But for that same reason, I understood why there was guilt growing in his eyes. On more than a few occasions, I'd overheard him trying to get Nugget to say my name._

 _Rick wanted this moment to be mine._

 _But it was ok that it wasn't._

 _Regardless of what Nugget's first word was, I was elated that he was starting to talk. Every milestone he reached meant that Rick and I were doing something right. It meant that Lori's abandonment had not stunted his growth. So before Rick could say anything to take away from this first, I squeezed his hand and looked deeply into his eyes._

" _There's only one thing you should be thinking right now," I told him._

 _A smile started at his lips and worked its way up to his eyes, pushing out the guilt._

" _Dance party?" he asked._

" _Dance party!" I shouted._

 _Rick and I celebrated Nugget's firsts in different ways, but we loved to celebrate with a dance party the most._

 _After we danced around the kitchen to I Gotta Feeling, and then danced around the kitchen to it a second time, I called Mika to let her know I wouldn't be in for the day. While we were discussing which meetings she could sit in on in my place, I noticed Rick fumbling with his phone and trying to snap a selfie. I also smelled a very unpleasant odor coming from Nugget._

 _All too familiar with father and son, I decided to continue my conversation with Mika in the living room before Rick became frustrated with his phone and Nugget became frustrated with what was in his diaper. Rick tried to block my path, but since he had a baby in one arm and his other arm was stretched out taking pictures, I was easily able to get past him._

 _When I walked into the living room, I looked over my shoulder at Rick and Nugget._

 _I couldn't stop smiling even if I tried._

* * *

I held the photo to my chest.

Nugget's first word had transformed an average Tuesday into a phenomenal one. Although in all honesty, most of the days I'd spent with Nugget and Rick had been phenomenal in one way or another. There were definitely moments when Rick drove me to the brink of insanity—our toilet seat wars, for instance, and Nugget could throw a tantrum like nobody's business, but I cherished every second that I'd shared with them.

I looked at the photo again and ran my finger down the glass over Nugget's face and then Rick's.

My guys.

My heart and my soul.

The reason why my rage was no longer roaring.

I let out a slow and steady breath and carefully set the frame on the table, angling it so that the photo faced out into the room.

 _Shit._

Maggie was going to kick my ass. And then Beth. And then Annette. And then probably Hershel. And then Maggie again. But as the Greene family liked to say, dibs is dibs.

And Rick had called dibs.

He wanted to talk to Lori. He didn't want me breaking her jaw or kicking her teeth in.

I needed to let Rick take the lead. I needed to leave.

And I was going to…

until I heard Lori's unhurried footsteps making their way to the front room.

I narrowed my eyes.

I felt my blood pressure rising.

Lori was never one to exhibit restraint, especially not when Rick was concerned.

I turned away from the photo and watched her limp into the room.

"Fucking Lori Grimes," I said through gritted teeth when our eyes met.

She stood on the other side of the room in typical Lori fashion. Scowling face? Check. Icy brown eyes? Check. Dull, lifeless hair in desperate need of a trim, a deep condition, and a style? Check, check, and check.

The only thing missing was her crossed arms.

She was holding LuLu instead.

LuLu was Rick's baseball bat. He'd gotten it over 10 years ago, but he only used it when he played in the annual King County sheriff's department vs. fire department baseball game. Because the bat was a Louisville Slugger, he nicknamed it LuLu. Because he'd scored a home run in every game he'd played in, he considered it to be his lucky bat.

No one touched LuLu. Ever. Rick was superstitious like that.

But here this bitch was with LuLu in her hands.

"Nice to see you, too, Michonne," she said with nothing but malice in her voice.

I responded with a stone-faced silence.

"You remember LuLu don't you?" she asked, resting the bat on her shoulder. "Bet you weren't expectin' to see her."

I responded with a stone-faced silence.

In no way whatsoever was I intimidated by fucking Lori Grimes, whether she was holding a bat or not. My silence was due to an internal battle I was engaged in.

My rage was more than ready to strike and incapacitate.

My heart was committed to respecting Rick's dibs.

 _Fuck._

"Did you really think you could just walk into my house without me realizin' it?" Lori asked with contempt. "You think I don't know what my husband sounds like when he comes through the front door of my house?"

 _Don't break her jaw._

 _Don't kick her teeth in._

"And if it wasn't my husband walkin' through the door at one-somethin' in the mornin', then of course it would be you. Because it's always you, isn't it?"

 _Don't break her jaw._

 _Don't kick her teeth in._

"I'm actually surprised you didn't bring your little hooligan posse with you," she said, tightening her grip on the bat. "But I wish you would've. I'd love to introduce them to LuLu."

 _Don't break her jaw._

 _Don't kick her teeth in._

She looked me up and down and sucked her teeth.

"Who'da thunk fancy pants Michonne Danvers would associate with those trashy Greene girls? I guess you got tired of havin' one charity case of a friend in Daryl, so you got yourself a couple more."

 _Don't break her jaw._ _Don't kick her teeth in._

"Cat got your tongue, Michonne?" she asked with a self-satisfied smirk. "Good. Because I'm gonna say my peace, and if you interrupt me or try anything—and I mean anything, I'll have LuLu do my talkin' for me. So listen up and listen up good."

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in._

"It's kinda funny how things work out if you think about it," she said, taking two steps towards me. "From what I was told, you no longer live in my house. You moved out weeks ago. But you're standin' in my house. Uninvited. Unwelcome."

 _Don't break her jaw._ _Don't kick her teeth in._

"Sounds an awful lot like trespassin' to me. And I can do whatever I want to a trespasser. Isn't that so, Michonne?" she asked, slowly swinging the bat.

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in._

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in._

"So here's the part where you listen good, Michonne," she said, resting the bat back on her shoulder.

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in._

 _Don't break her jaw._ _Don't kick her teeth in._

"I don't like you. I have never liked you. All these years, I have tolerated you," she said. "I have tolerated your officially unofficial best friend bullshit with my husband. I have tolerated your presence in my life. But after how you attacked me? After how you let your friends attack me? That ends right now."

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in._

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in._

"Do you even care what you've taken from me?" she shouted. "Take! Take! Take! From the very beginnin', you've taken from me!"

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in. Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in._

"Prom night was supposed to be my night, Michonne! My night! My crown! Me and Rick! King and Queen! Not you!" she shouted. "And my weddin'! You ruined my weddin'! You could've made Daryl be best man! You know you could've! But no. It had to be you! It always has to be you!"

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in. Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in._

"And you think I don't know what you were doin' with this whole surrogacy thing? What you've always been doin'? You're tryin' to be me, Michonne. But you can't be! You can't have my life! You can't have what's mine!"

 _Don't break her jawDon't kick her teeth inDon't break her jawDon't kick her teeth in._

"Rick chose me! He loves me! It's why after all this time, I can come home, fix my husband a steak dinner, and wait for him in our bed," she said. "He may not have come home tonight, but he will come home. To me. He will walk through that front door. For me. He will forgive me. He loves _me_."

 _Don't break her jawDon't kick her teeth inDon't break her jawDon't kick her teeth in._

She took another step closer to me.

We were separated by the length of the baseball bat.

"Your hoity toity boyfriend was so concerned about Rick bein' a problem. But _you_ are the problem, Michonne. And I promise you this—I'm gonna make you as miserable as you've made me. I will win. Because Rick will never walk away from me. He will never walk away from his child."

 _Don't break her jawDon't kick her teeth inDon't break her jawDon't kick her teeth in._

"So get outta my house and don't come back! Consider this your courtesy warnin', Michonne. Now go! Leave!" she shouted, pointing LuLu at my chest.

I swiftly grabbed the bat and pointed it at her.

"I," I said, poking her in the chest with the tip of the bat. "Can't," I said with a harder poke, forcefully pushing her back a few steps.

Fear flooded her eyes, as it should have. I was hanging on to my commitment to Rick's dibs by a thread.

 _LuLu, give me strength._

If I let go of this bat, I was going to do more than just hurt Lori. I wasn't going to be able to stop myself after a few slaps and punches. I slowly backed away from her, gripping LuLu as if my life depended on it. I backed my way to the front porch, and my eyes were immediately drawn to Lori's SUV.

When I was standing in front of it, I could see how shiny and new it looked. It wasn't Lori's face, but it would do.

"I swear to God I'll call the police, Michonne!" Lori screeched from the porch. "Put that bat down right now!"

I turned my head to look at her and she flinched.

"This isn't your space," I said very calmly.

I turned back to the SUV and raised the bat.

" **This is not your space!** " I shouted, hitting the hood.

" **You're not welcome here!** " I shouted, hitting the hood again.

" **You weren't invited here** **!** " I shouted, hitting the hood again.

" **This is not your home** **!** " I shouted, hitting the hood again.

" **They're not yours**!" I shouted hitting the fender.

" **They don't belong to you!** " I shouted, hitting the fender again.

" **You don't get Rick!** " I shouted, hitting the left headlight.

" **You don't get Nugget!** " I shouted, hitting the right headlight.

" **Fuck prom night!** " I shouted, hitting the grill.

" **Fuck your wedding!** " I shouted, hitting the grill again.

" **You selfish, delusional bitch!** " I shouted, hitting the grill again.

" **A year!** " I shouted, eyeing the windshield as I walked around to the right side of the SUV. " **A year!** " I shouted, shattering it.

" **You broke him!** " I shouted, hitting the side view mirror.

" **He couldn't eat!** " I shouted, hitting the front passenger door.

" **He couldn't sleep!** " I shouted, breaking the front passenger window.

" **He couldn't bathe!** " I shouted, hitting the top of the SUV.

" **He couldn't take care of himself!** " I shouted, hitting the back passenger door.

" **He couldn't take care of Nugget!** " I shouted, breaking the back passenger window.

After I lifted the bat to hit the top of the SUV, I noticed a car seat and a stuffed bunny rabbit in the back seat. I turned to look at Lori, but she was no longer standing on the porch and the front door was closed.

" **You think this matters**?" I shouted at the closed door.

" **A car seat doesn't make you a mother!** " I shouted, turning back to the SUV and hitting the top of it.

" **He** **likes dinosaurs!** " I said, hitting the right tail light.

" **He likes super heroes!** " I shouted, hitting the back of the SUV.

" **He likes penguins!** " I shouted, hitting the rear fender.

" **He doesn't fucking like bunnies!** " I shouted, hitting the rear fender again.

" **You ruined his birthday!** " I shouted, hitting the top of the SUV.

" **You ruined his birth!** " I shouted, hitting the top of the SUV again.

" **You ruin everything** **!** " I shouted, hitting the top of the SUV again.

" **Keep Daryl's name out your mouth** **!** " I shouted, hitting the rear windshield.

" **Keep the Greenes' names out your mouth!** " I shouted, shattering the rear windshield.

" **Fuck you and fuck Panty Man!** " I shouted, hitting the left tail light.

" **I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!** " I shouted.

I was short of breath and my arms and chest burned, but I wasn't done. I walked to the left side of the car and stood between the front and the back doors. I lined up the bat to hit the the driver's side window and then hit it and spun around and hit the passenger window behind it.

I heard the wail of a police siren as I was trying to catch my breath, and then the flashing of red and blue lights lit up the street.

 _Oh hell no!_

I looked back at the porch, and there Lori was. Arms crossed. Smug smirk on her face.

A car screeched to a stop behind me.

I threw down LuLu.

If I was going to jail, I was going to jail for a good reason.

But before I could sprint to Lori, I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist and pull me back.

"No!" I screamed.

Why did this keep happening to me?

"What the hell, Michonne?" Rick's gruff voice asked.

"What the fuck, Rick!" I shouted, slapping at his arm.

"Calm down," he rasped in my ear. "Now!"

Before I could kindly tell him to mind his fucking business, he walked us towards the street, put me down, turned me around, picked me up, and threw me over his shoulder. He'd done it so quickly that I didn't process what was happening until I was hanging down.

"Noah, clear out this crowd and get rid of that bat," he quietly ordered. "Then call Terminus Towin' and have this SUV removed. Ask for Gareth."

"Yes, sir," Noah replied, walking away from us. "There's nothing to see here, folks! Please disperse and return to your homes," he loudly commanded.

"Rick! Thank God!" I heard Lori shout. "She's outta control!"

"Snitch bitch!" I yelled out.

I tried to wiggle my way off Rick's shoulder, but he held me firmly in place.

"Put me down!" I screamed.

"Morales, handle Lori. Please," Rick said. "She can't be in the house right now. I need a minute with Michonne."

"How long is a minute?" Morales asked.

"As long as you can stretch it," Rick requested.

Morales, who'd been Rick's partner for over a decade before Rick requested third shift desk duty, promptly strode over to Lori.

"Lori," I heard Morales say. "I need you to step this way with me."

"Rick!" Lori called out.

"You'll be able to speak with Rick in just a moment," Morales advised. "Step this way please."

"But, Morales," she whimpered.

"It's Officer Morales right now, and I need you step this way," he said in a voice that left no room for further discussion.

After she complied with Morales's request, Rick started walking towards the house, avoiding the broken glass around the SUV as best as he could.

"What the..." I heard Lori gasp.

She was probably seeing the luggage I'd thrown out.

"Enjoy rotting in jail!" she shouted.

"Fuck you, Fucking Lori Grimes!" I shouted back.

I tried to wiggle my way out of Rick's grasp again, but I almost ended up taking us both down so I stopped. Rick mumbled something under his breath that I couldn't understand. But it sounded very rude, and I didn't appreciate that whatsoever.

"Lori, I'm going to have to ask that you refrain from raisin' your voice and yelling obscenities," I heard Morales say.

"But she yelled the obscenity at me!" she complained.

"Let's talk about what happened here tonight," he said to her, directing the conversation.

Rick walked through the front room of the house and headed straight to the kitchen. He sat me down on the counter and stood in front of me between my legs.

His face was red.

His head was tilted.

His eyes were squinting,

"Don't look at me like that," I snapped. "I'm not in the mood, Rick."

"You're not in the mood? Really?" he asked incredulously. "Because we should be at home asleep in bed right now at..." he stopped talking to look at the clock, "at 2:11 in the mornin'. But here we are. So get in the mood, Michonne."

Rick had some nerve.

"Get out of my face," I hissed.

He rolled his eyes. "Give me your foot," he demanded.

I crossed my arms and stared at him.

"Give. Me. Your. Foot," he said authoritatively.

I lifted my right leg up, but I lifted it with attitude to let him know I still wasn't in the mood.

He gave me a look before stepping back and holding my leg up. He checked the top of my foot, the sides of my foot, the bottom of my foot, and in between my toes.

"Other foot," he demanded.

I dropped my right leg and then lifted my left leg with attitude. He checked my left foot in the same manner that he'd checked the right, and then he looked at me.

"Losin' your shit is your thang now?" he asked.

I jerked my foot from his hands and dropped my leg.

"My shit has never stopped being together," I grumbled.

He took a step closer to me and held up his forefinger. "Drunk on Saturday night."

He held up his middle finger. "Hungover at Carl's birthday."

He held up his ring finger. "Tryin' to fight Lori at Hershel's."

He held up a his pinky finger. "Disappearin' in the middle of the night."

He held up his thumb. "Usin' LuLu on that SUV."

He held up his other thumb. "About to run through glass barefoot to fight Lori."

I pushed his hands away.

"So I'm askin' again. Is losin' your shit your thang now?"

"And I'm telling you again," I growled. "My shit is together."

It really wasn't. It was so very, very far from together, but I didn't think it was necessary for Rick to point that out.

"Your feet are fine, by the way," he said. "No glass. No cuts."

He stared at me impatiently, waiting for me to explain myself. I was still too riled up to want to offer up an explanation, so I let silence thicken between us.

He stepped even closer to me.

"Michonne, what are you doin'?"

"What are _you_ doing, Rick?" I asked angrily, moving my face so close to his that our noses were almost touching. "You just couldn't stay away, could you? You just couldn't wait to come see her. Well your little damsel is right outside. Go get her."

I shoved him in the chest to get him away from me, but Rick was immovable.

I tried to scoot away from him on the counter, but he put his hands on my waist and held me in place.

"Go!" I furiously shouted, refusing to look at him.

"Michonne, look at me," he ordered.

I stared at the Winnie the Pooh-themed bottles on the kitchen table and rolled my eyes.

Lori must have brought those with her.

"Michonne," Rick said in a softer voice. "Look at me."

Between the bottles, the toys, the car seat, and the stuffed animals, Lori was trying hard to sell herself as a parental type.

She was failing.

Rick and I started weaning Nugget off of bottles months ago. We already decided that he'd stop using them altogether once he turned one.

Rick sighed. "Will you stop bein' an uh-sole and look at me?" he asked.

I really didn't want to look at Rick. Underneath my anger, there was this ache growing in my heart. If I looked into his eyes and saw that what Lori had said about him was true, I wasn't sure that I could handle the pain.

I kept my eyes on Winnie the Pooh.

"Michonne," Rick said, lightly squeezing my waist. "I'm not here for Lori."

Relief filled my heart, and I hated myself for allowing Lori's words to affect me.

"Stop trying to make uh-sole a thing," I said quietly.

"It's a thang, Michonne. Stop fightin' it."

"No chance," I whispered, finally looking at Rick and really seeing him for first time since he got here.

His bedhead hair sprouted out in different directions, and although he was giving me a small smile, I could see how distressed he was. When his smile fell and his expression became serious, I braced myself.

"Carl started cryin'," he said.

My heart dropped.

 _Nugget!_

I pushed Rick away and hopped off the counter, but he effortlessly picked me up and sat me back down.

"He's fine," he said reassuringly. "And since we both know nuthin' can keep you from a cryin' Carl, I knew somethin' was wrong before I got outta bed. I was hopin' you were just pacin' in the livin' room and gettin' lost in those thoughts of yours, but you weren't. Then I saw this on the couch..."

Though Rick still had on the pajama top I let him borrow, he was wearing the shorts he'd worn at Hershel's. He reached into a front pocket and pulled out my phone. After he unlocked it, he held it up.

The Whoop That Trick gif with Terrance Howard was playing.

 _Maggie._

"I figured you were here. This just confirmed it," Rick said.

I took my phone from him and set it on the counter.

"Where's-" I started to ask.

"Carl's with Daryl."

"But-" I started to say.

"Rosita's not there."

"How'd-" I started to ask.

"How'd I get here when my truck is still at Hershel's and you left me without a vehicle?" he asked.

I looked away guiltily and nodded.

"I knew Morales and Noah were workin' tonight so I gave 'em a call and asked for a lift," he said. "When we were in route, Lori must've called 911. They let dispatch know they'd respond to the call."

"Oh," I said, looking at him.

" _Oh_?" he repeated, starting to turn red. "That's it?"

"Rick-"

"Uh uh. Don't 'Rick' me. I thought we were comin' over here and doin' this together. Me and you," he said, gesturing between us with his hand.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "I know. We were, but… and then... and the frozen steaks… and her bony hands... and then the lights," I tried to explain.

Rick put his hands on his hips, tilted his head, and looked me up and down.

"Michonne," he said slowly, "are you on drugs?"

I groaned.

 _Oh my God._

"No, Rick. I'm not on drugs," I said with an eye roll. "And I was going to leave. I was. I was about to go home—back to Nugget, back to you, but then she was standing there, and I… I don't know, I just..."

"You lost your shit," he said.

"Yeah, Rick. Fine," I admitted. "I lost my shit, ok?"

Rick ran his hand down his face and shook his head.

"I should've gone with my gut and handcuffed you to the bed," he said seriously. "I should've seen this comin'."

I ignored the mental image of Rick Grimes handcuffing me to my bed.

"For what it's worth, I really am sorry I left without saying anything," I told him. "I'm sorry I didn't just wait for us to come over here together."

That was all I cared to apologize for. Anything else would be a lie.

He stared at me, considering my apology.

"Yeah, well, you were under the influence of frozen steaks and bony hands and lights, so you couldn't really help yourself, could you?" he asked.

"I really couldn't, Rick," I said honestly.

He shook his head again and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, holding me tight. I wrapped my arms around his waist and breathed in his scent, which was technically my scent since my Victoria's Secret lotion still clung to him.

The comfort of Rick's embrace allowed my thoughts to drift to something my logical and sensible sides tried to warn me about earlier. I may not have kicked the door down, but I was one of those women now. Worse yet, I was one of those women who was probably going to be walked out of the house in handcuffs now that law enforcement was involved.

Lori was going to press every charge against me that she could.

I started to panic.

The last time I held Nugget, he was crying and screaming because of Panty Man's nonsense. The last time I kissed him was before I took Panty Man to the ER, but it was a rushed kiss on top of his head. I wasn't even able to give him one last birthday cuddle before he went to bed. And now I had no idea when I would get to kiss him or hold him again.

I felt short of breath.

Lori was spiteful enough to use my arrest against me to try to bar me from seeing him, but what kind of life did I have if it didn't include my little Nugget?

"Breathe, Michonne," Rick said, pulling out of our hug to cup my face with his hands. "Please don't cry."

I tried to gain control of my emotions but I could feel my tears falling.

"Michonne, stop," Rick whispered as he tenderly wiped my tears away with his thumbs.

But I couldn't stop. The thought of a Nuggetless existence hurt too much.

More tears fell.

"Michonne, have you ever gotten a speedin' ticket?" Rick asked, wiping my tears.

I was too baffled by the question to answer.

"Yes or no? Have you ever gotten a speedin' ticket?"

I slowly shook my head and two more tears rolled down my cheeks.

"No. You haven't," he said, wiping those tears. "And every Monday you drive like a bat outta hell to get to work because you always leave late. You get clocked goin' at least twenty miles over the speed limit every Monday mornin'. But not one ticket. Right?" he asked.

I slowly nodded and another tear rolled down my cheek.

Rick wiped it away.

"And what about that night you got us kicked outta that fine establishment after all those shots you had? You were very, very drunk and very, very disorderly. You ever get cited for that?"

I sniffled and shook my head.

"That's right," he said. "I'm not gonna let anythang happen to you, Michonne. So please stop cryin'."

Rick would never let anyone or anything come between me and Nugget. I knew that.

I had to stop letting Lori spook me.

 _Get it together, Michonne._

I took a deep breath.

"One more," Rick urged.

I took another deep breath.

"Everythang is gonna be ok. I just need you to believe me when I tell you that," he said.

I nodded. "I do, Rick," I said truthfully.

He gently caressed my cheek.

"Hey," he whispered, looking into my eyes.

"Hey," I whispered back.

"You ok?" he whispered.

"I'm ok," I whispered back.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against mine.

"You know what?" he asked as he pulled his head away from mine.

"What?" I asked, breathlessly.

"I think you really are the crazy one," he said with a smile.

I rolled my eyes.

"Birds of a feather, Rick," I said, completely unamused.

"Don't put your crazy on me," he smirked as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"You," I said, lightly poking him in the chest, "...named your bat. Sounds pretty crazy to me."

When I saw the twinkle in his eyes, I groaned.

"Michonne, you are literally batshit crazy," he said with a laugh.

I groaned again and crossed my arms.

"You're using literally wrong," I grumbled. "I can't literally be batshit."

"And you know what else?" he asked, ignoring me.

"What, Rick?" I sighed out.

"You've had me fooled all these years with all your Superman talk, but you really are on Team Batman. Ain't that right... Batgirl?" he asked, squeezing my waist.

"Oh my God," I groaned. "Are you done?"

He grinned at me, so I answered for him. "Yeah, you're done."

As I looked at Rick's smiling face, I realized that fucking Lori Grimes was right about one thing and one thing only. The officially unofficial best friend title that Rick and I shared was bullshit.

Rick was my very best friend in the world.

I wasn't going to deny that anymore.

"What is it?" Rick asked as I had another realization.

 _Shit._

My heart started racing.

We were still in the thick of Fucking Lori Grimes drama, so the timing couldn't have been worse, but there was truth to what Maggie said. It was time to shit or get off the pot.

I looked into Rick's sky blue eyes. "Rick-"

"Sorry to interrupt," Morales said, entering the kitchen. "Noah's finishin' up out there."

"Thanks, Morales," Rick said, giving me another squeeze before stepping away from me.

He stayed close and leaned on the counter next to me.

"How's it goin', Michonne?" Morales asked, walking over to me.

"Hi, Morales," I mumbled, completely embarrassed that he witnessed me in losing my shit mode.

He gave me a hug and a friendly kiss on the cheek. "Shit happens," he said with a shrug. "Don't stress it."

Rick rubbed my knee and left his hand there.

"Me and Linda and the kids sure did hate that Carl's party was canceled," Morales said. "Linda saw Lori in the grocery store earlier, so we kind of figured she had somethin' to do with it."

"Yeah, she had something to do with it all right," I said bitterly.

We commiserated in silence before Morales cleared his throat.

"I hate to have to do this, but you know how this works, Rick," Morales said apologetically. "I have to ask a couple of questions about tonight."

Rick nodded slowly and Morales turned his focus on me.

"Michonne, why did you come over-"

"No," Rick interjected. "She's not answerin' any questions."

"As the respondin' officer, you know I have to ask," Morales pointed out.

"No," Rick said sharply.

Rick and Morales stared each other down until Morales looked away and ran his hand through his hair.

"I'm on your side. You know that," he told Rick.

"I do know that," Rick agreed. "But Michonne's off limits right now. Ask me anythang you want, but Michonne's not talkin'."

I thought it was sweet of Rick to shut Morales down on my behalf, but I was an attorney. Even if I was just a contract law attorney, I knew not to talk.

"Alright then. Rick, legally speakin', does Lori have the right to be here?" Morales asked.

Rick started fidgeting his fingers against my knee."Legally speakin', yes. She does," Rick answered.

"And, legally speakin', does Michonne have the right-"

"This is Michonne's home," Rick asserted, standing up straight.

His hand was still on my knee, so I covered it with mine and squeezed it to try to calm him down.

"I understand," Morales said. "But Lori's throwin' around trespassin', so-"

"Michonne can't trespass in her own home!" Rick barked, pulling his hand away from mine and putting his hands on his hips. "So we can stop this line of questionin' right now."

"Rick, I understand. As a friend, I understand. But I'm not askin' these questions as a friend. I'm in uniform right now," he stated firmly. "As an officer of the law, I need clarification on a few things."

Rick and Morales stared each other down for a second time, but Rick was the one to back down this time.

"Michonne has every right to be here, legal and otherwise," Rick said, trying to keep his voice under control. "We have a surrogacy agreement showin' that she moved in when she was six months pregnant. Michonne, me, and Lori signed it. After Carl was born, her stay was extended indefinitely after me and Michonne made a verbal agreement. Lori wouldn't know that because Lori wasn't here. Michonne still has her key. Our verbal agreement still stands. Is that enough clarification?"

"It is," Morales said. "That's all I need to know. We'll figure the rest out, ok?"

Rick, still agitated by the questioning, barely nodded his head.

"Sorry about that," Morales said to me.

"You're just doing your job," I told him, rubbing Rick's back. "Right, Rick? No hard feelings."

A vein bulged on Rick's forehead in response.

"Rick," I said, taking one of his hands and turning him towards me. "No hard feelings?"

"THIS IS BULLSHIT!" he silently told me with his eyes.

"It's not Morales's fault," I silently told him with mine.

"Rick, the tow truck just left. All of the glass should be cleaned up, too," Noah said, walking into the kitchen. "Hi, Michonne!"

I smiled at him in greeting.

Noah moved to King County and joined the sheriff's department about six months ago. Since we were friendly but didn't know each other all that well, I internally cringed when I thought about the impression I had just left.

"Wow, remind me never to piss you off," Noah said with a laugh.

Both Rick and Morales gave him a look.

"What? It's a compliment! Michonne's bat skills are dope AF!" Noah said.

Morales sighed. "Here we go with the AF. Everything is something-AF with this kid. You make me really miss havin' a partner who speaks in words and not letters."

"SMDH, Morales," Noah replied, shaking his head. "But ILY. Hugging face emoji. Heart eyes emoji."

"STFU," Morales replied.

He and Noah shared a laugh, but Rick looked completely lost by their acronym-filled conversation.

"Hey, Noah?" Morales asked, looking around. "Where's Lori?"

"Oh yeah, she's in the squad car," he said.

Rick, Morales, and I stared at him.

"You detained Lori?" Morales asked.

"I did," he affirmed. "Birdie Jenkins provided an eye-witness account detailing how Lori threatened Michonne with a baseball bat."

I felt Rick tense up, but my focus was 100% on Noah.

"She was walking her dog when she witnessed it," Noah continued. "She said she was able to see what happened because the front door was wide open and the house was lit up like a Christmas tree—on account of all the lights being on. She said she could hear what happened because Lori was screaming like a baby goat. Lori took offense to the baby goat comment, so she called Aunt Birdie a liar. Aunt Birdie took offense to the liar comment, so she went Celie on Lori. Hit her with, 'Until you do right by them, everything you think about is gonna crumble, bitch.'"

"Noah," Morales said in a disapproving tone.

"What? That's what Aunt Birdie said," he replied. "But please excuse the language," he said to me.

I could definitely see why Annette and Birdie were friends.

"Then Lori became irate," Noah continued, "and at that time, I detained her."

"So she's cuffed and sittin' in the back of the car?" Morales asked.

"She is," Noah answered.

"Dammit, Noah! We've talked about this," Morales said in exasperation. "You can't go arrestin' folks who insult your aunt, especially not after the the pasta maker incident with Mrs. Niedermeyer."

"Yeah, that's true," Noah conceded after a moment of thought. "I'll go get her. She should be fine though—I left the window cracked."

Morales, at a loss for words, just stared at Noah.

"I'll get her. You hang back," Morales said after he recovered. "It's best she doesn't see you until after the cuffs are off. And when she does see you, don't say anythang to her... and don't make eye contact... as a matter of fact, just keep your distance."

"Sorry, Morales," Noah said, handing him the handcuff keys.

"FML," he muttered to himself as he left the kitchen. "And tell Birdie to stop puttin' that curse on people!" he shouted over his shoulder.

I felt for Morales. He was walking to the front door as if he was headed to certain doom, but there was an immeasurable joy that came from knowing Lori was handcuffed and sitting in the back of a squad car.

 _Karma justice, bitch!_

"What's that smile?" Noah asked.

"Nothing," I grinned.

I allowed myself to smile a few seconds longer before composing myself.

"So Birdie's your aunt?" I asked Noah.

"Yeah, she's the one who convinced me to move out here," he said.

"And you moved out from the east coast?"

He nodded. "From Richmond, Virginia. I left behind my baby brothers and my folks, but moving here is the best decision I ever made."

"Moving to King County is? Then I'm going out on a limb and saying you haven't made a lot of decisions in life, Noah," I joked.

He laughed. "Hey, it's a small town with good people, and when things get too slow, Atlanta is only an hour away. What's not to like?"

I smiled at him. "Well we're glad to have you."

He gave me a big smile in return.

"And speaking of good people," he said somewhat timidly. "Would you happen to know if Beth—Beth Greene—is still dating Jimmy?"

"Noah, leave," Rick said in a low voice.

Noah and I both looked at Rick. His jaw was set in a hard line and his face was turning a deep shade of red. I'd gotten so caught up in lowkey hero-worshipping Noah that I'd failed to notice how Rick had withdrawn from the conversation.

"Everything ok, Rick?" Noah asked with genuine concern.

Rick looked at Noah and tilted his head.

 _Shit._

"Noah, why don't you go check on Morales," I said, keeping my eyes on Rick.

"Y-yeah, sure," he stammered.

He was clearly confused by the change in atmosphere but wise enough to know he was about to be in over his head if he stayed. When I heard the front door close, I hopped off the counter and stood in front of Rick. His eyes were the darkest blue that I'd ever seen.

"Rick, what's wrong?"

His chest started to heave.

"Did she threaten you with LuLu?" he asked.

I wasn't entirely sure how to answer that question. I was all for Rick being outraged, enraged, offended, and disgusted by Lori's behavior, but he was moving into a neck biting level of anger and Daryl wasn't here to subdue him.

"Michonne, did she threaten you with LuLu?" he asked again.

"Rick, I'm ok," I told him.

"So she threatened you. With my bat. Inside our home," he said more to himself than to me. "What did she say to you, Michonne?"

I did know how to answer that question.

"Nothing that matters," I told him, cupping his face with my hand.

And it didn't. For whatever reason—fate; the stars aligning; just because—Rick and I became a part of each other's worlds when we were six years old. Lori couldn't stop what had been set in motion so many years ago.

At some point, I would tell Rick everything that Lori had said, but now wasn't the time.

He placed his hand over mine, removed it from his face, and placed a tender kiss on my knuckles. Then he strutted out the kitchen with that commanding bowlegged walk of his.

 _Shit!_

"Rick?" I called out.

When he didn't answer, I followed him into the front room. He walked to the window and held back the curtain to look outside. When he saw Lori, Morales, and Noah, he stiffened.

"Rick!" I said, hoping he'd respond.

He let go of the curtain and walked to the front door like a man possessed. As soon as he opened it, I reached around him and slammed it shut.

He opened it again, so I slammed it shut again.

When I got in between him and the door, he glared at me.

"Listen, I'm not like you, Rick. I'm not selling my car to pay for your defense fund. You need to dial it back a little," I said. "Actually, scratch that. Dial it back a lot. No biting out necks, Rick!"

His glare turned into a squint, and my stomach dropped. How the hell was I going to stop him? But as I was trying to think of options, Rick's squint reverted to a glare.

"You would sell your car and you know it," he muttered.

"I really, really wouldn't, Rick," I told him, smiling in relief. "I like my car entirely too much."

He didn't smile, but his face softened just enough for me to take control of the situation. I grabbed his hand and led him back to the kitchen.

"Counter," I ordered after we walked in.

Rick hopped up to sit on the counter.

I stood between his legs and looked into his eyes. They were nowhere close to being a serene sky blue, but at least some of the darkness had lifted from them.

Satisfied that he was at a manageable level of pissed off, I held up my forefinger. "I told you, Rick… birds of a feather."

I held up my middle finger. "Welcome to my world. Lori and her bullshit take you to a whole 'nother level of rage."

I held up my ring finger, but after some thought I put it back down. "I guess that's all I've got," I said, holding up my two fingers.

Rick pushed my hand down and held on to my fingers.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry it took me so long to see her for who she is, but my eyes are wide open now. I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family, Michonne. Carl and you-"

We heard the front door open.

"I want her arrested!" Lori shrieked.

I could hear Morales' very heavy sigh.

"As we've already discussed, we will not be arrestin' Miss Danvers this evening," he said in a tight voice. "Tonight's events are still under investigation. At the conclusion of said investigation, we'll contact you to inform you if any criminal misconduct has occurred."

" _If_ any criminal misconduct has occurred? _If?_ She destroyed my SUV!" Lori shrieked.

"And we have an overwhelmin' number of witness statements indicatin' that Miss Danvers was actin' in self-defense," Morales said. "Besides that, we were unable to locate the bat that you allege she used."

"You saw her! She was swingin' at my SUV when you pulled up!" she shrieked.

"No, she was standin' by it," Morales stated. "As I've already told you, our investigation is ongoin' and until we have ascertained the facts, I can't do anythang more for you."

"So that's it? You're just leavin'?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes, Noah and I are leavin'," he replied.

"But she-" she huffed.

"Are you tellin' me how to do my job, Lori?" Morales snapped.

"N-no," she stammered. "But she-"

"Are you tryin' to interfere with an active investigation?" he asked.

She remained silent.

"I don't know how they do things in _Florida_ ," he said with scorn. "But this is King County, Georgia—in case you forgot. We'll be in touch at the conclusion of our investigation."

Morales and Lori walked into the kitchen. I avoided looking at Lori, but Morales looked heated AF.

"Rick, Michonne, if you need anythang, you know how to reach me," he said, nodding his head towards us and then walking as fast as he could to the front door.

I felt Lori's eyes burning holes through me as she took in my close proximity to Rick, but Rick and I kept our eyes on each other.

He silently asked me, "You wanna do this right now?"

"If you're ready, I'm ready," I silently answered.

He silently told me, "Yeah, I'm ready."

He hopped off the counter, still looking only at me.

"Talkin' only, Michonne," he silently added.

I stared at him for a beat.

"Right back at you, Rick," I silently retorted.

He possessively took my hand in his, and we turned to face Lori.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Reviews are appreciated! See you next chapter!**


	18. Bitches Be Crazy (part 6)

**A/N: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! for your patience! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! for reading! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! for reviewing!**

 **I can't tell you how much it means!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **18\. Bitches Be Crazy (part 6)**

Rick's grip on my hand tightened the moment his eyes met hers.

I kept my eyes locked on him.

I had to.

If I looked at her, I absolutely, positively was going to break her jaw and kick her teeth in.

But Rick wanted talking only.

So I looked at him as he looked at her in that intense, head tilted, eye squinting way of his...

and I tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach.

 _Shit._

This was not happening.

Not now.

I inwardly rolled my eyes at my ridiculousness and then casually lowered my gaze to our connected hands.

I had to bite my bottom lip to stop a smile from spreading across my face.

 _Shit! Get it together, Michonne!_

I was being beyond ridiculous.

This moment was about Rick confronting that walking, talking pile of garbage. Nothing more. I was **not** about to start acting like a teenage girl with a crush just because Rick Grimes was holding my hand.

It's not as if this was our first time holding hands anyways. He wrapped his sticky hand around mine the day we first met; there'd been countless instances of hand holding since then; I'm sure we'd held hands at some point over the weekend.

But…

But this was the first time that holding hands felt like...

something more.

The sensation of his palm sliding against mine…

of his fingers settling between mine…

of his hand gripping mine…

was…

It was a spine-tingling, head-dizzying, heart-stopping kind of electric!

The fluttering in my stomach intensified.

The warmth that only came from blushing heated my face.

"Oh my God," I groaned under my breath.

This was happening.

Now, of all times, this was happening.

And this was all Margaret Josephine Greene's fault.

I finally listened to her damn toilet talk, and now I was acting like a teenage girl with a crush. If I started twirling my hair around my finger and giggling, I was heading straight to the Greene farm to have words with her.

I was in the middle of one hell of an eye roll when I felt Rick gently tug on my hand. Without thought, my eyes snapped up to his face.

My breath immediately caught in my throat.

He was facing me with his head cocked in concern, and those blue eyes of his—those heavenly sky blue eyes of his—were peering at me, wide and questioning.

"Michonne," he said softly, moving closer to me. "What's wrong?"

 _Jesus._

Was that how he always said my name? _"Michonne."_ I openly stared at his lips—his perfectly pink lips—and silently willed my name to come out of his mouth one more time. I needed to hear it again. Desperately.

My heart was beating wildly.

My chest started to rise and fall in anticipation.

I may have licked my lips.

"Riiiiiiiick!" Lori suddenly cried out from across the room.

Startled by her very loud, very high pitched, baby goat-like voice, Rick and I jumped and turned to look at her. She took three wobbly steps towards us, collapsed to the floor onto her knees, and covered her face with her hands.

 _What in the actual fuck?!_

Maggie was easily the most dramatic person I'd ever met, but even she would've considered what Rick and I just witnessed to be too much.

"Oh, Rick," Lori woefully moaned into her hands, rocking her body forward and back.

She effectively killed the fluttering in my stomach when she ever so slowly lifted her face from her hands and wiped an imaginary tear from her cheek. My rage started churning when she looked up at Rick with big, sorrowful eyes.

 _Fucking. Lori. Grimes._

She's a bat-wielding lunatic in front of me but a repentant lunatic in front of Rick?

Fuck that!

 _Break her jaw. Kick her teeth in._

I took a very aggressive step towards her, but Rick pulled me back my hand that was still connected to his. I tried to yank my hand away, but he held onto it even tighter.

"Stop," he silently ordered after I whipped my head around to glare at him.

Oh.

How wonderful.

He still wanted to do the talking only thing.

 _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Shit!_

I swallowed a frustrated grunt and gave him the slightest of nods to acknowledge that, for now, I would stop. Against better judgment, I looked away from him to glare at Lori. She shot me an almost imperceptible smirk before fixing her face back into a deeply contrite expression.

That did it.

My blood was boiling again.

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in._

"Rick… baby, I missed you so, so much," she tenderly professed.

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in._

"But I'm home now, baby. I'm home," she beamed, holding her arms out for Rick to run into them.

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in._

"Lori," Rick said in a controlled but strained voice.

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her teeth in._

"Get your shit and go!" he roared.

 _Don't break her jaw. Don't kick her… Wait. What?_

When Rick said he wanted to talk, it never occurred to me that those would be the first words he'd use.

"B-but," Lori stuttered in confusion.

"Get up, get your shit, and go!" he barked.

I blissfully watched the color drain from Lori's face. And when her jaw dropped, the look of open-mouthed horror elevated my bliss to ecstasy.

After all the nonsense she spewed when she had LuLu to hide behind, it was obvious that she'd envisioned only one outcome with Rick. This was not that happily ever after outcome. Being kicked out of the house she still considered to be her home, by the man she still viewed as her husband, while he held hands with the woman she thought of as her nemesis had completely blindsided her.

"B-but," she stuttered as her arms fell to her sides, "… you can't mean that. Rick, you don't mean that!"

"I'm not fuckin' around, Lori," Rick said in a deathly serious voice. "Leave!"

Her eyes widened in shock.

"No. No, no, no, no, no," she mumbled, shaking her head back and forth. "Baby, no," she whimpered, looking up at Rick with a slightly unhinged expression on her face. "I know it was a shock seein' me earlier. I know it's a shock seein' me now. But I promise you, Rick, I promise you I am home now. I am here now. We-"

"There is no _we!_ " Rick shouted. "You left! You left your child! You left your home! You left us!"

"B-but," she stuttered, "Rick, just let me-"

"I drove around for hours, Lori! _Hours!_ Lookin' for you. Not knowin' if you were... I thought you were..." he said before letting out a shaky breath and clearing his throat. "I drove around thinkin' the worst because what else would keep you from bein' at the hospital? Why else wouldn't you return my calls?"

The anguish in Rick's voice twisted itself around my heart. I had no idea that when Nugget started making his way into the world, Rick was grappling with the thought that Lori was either seriously injured or dead.

The depth of my hatred for her, which was already so deeply rooted in my bones, grew.

More than wanting to break her jaw and kick her teeth in, I wanted to pull Rick away from this moment and wrap my arms around him. I wanted to hold him as closely and as tightly as possible to comfort him for having felt that type of pain. I wanted to whisper the sweetest nothings into his ear to drive out the lingering echoes of that pain.

Then I wanted to kick Lori's ass.

"And even after I found that letter and knew you walked away from us, I still looked for you," he said in a pained voice. "Instead of bein' there for Michonne and our son, I chose you. And I hate myself for that, Lori. Every day I do. I hate you for that."

"You… you don't mean that, Rick. I don't believe you!" she yelled, rejecting his rejection of her.

"Was it even true?" he asked, ignoring her outburst. "Or was it all a lie?"

Her eyes widened just a fraction and she swallowed hard.

"W-what? Was what true?" she asked a little too aloofly.

"The letter, Lori!" he snapped.

The letter. I'd looked for it in the house, in Rick's truck, in Rick's desk at the station, in the squad car Rick shared with Morales, and in Daryl's house before I decided to respect Rick's privacy and stop looking. Although I never read it, I think it was safe to assume that it was full of lies. Lori's lousy poker face guaranteed that.

"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Rick asked before Lori could respond. "Just somethin' else that doesn't mean a goddamn thang to me now."

"Stop it! Stop bein' so mean!" she shrieked. "I'm not perfect, baby, I know I'm not! But neither are you," she whimpered. "You turned your back on me when I needed you, Rick! Don't you think that hurt me? Don't you think that broke my heart?"

 _What the hell was she talking about?_

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Rick asked, fuming.

"I have bruises up and down my body from what Michonne and those people did to me! You let her attack me! You let those people attack me! And then you left me in the dirt! Twice! My own husband! I could hate you for that. I could cuss you out six ways from Sunday! But I'm bigger than pettiness, Rick. You were in shock, and you made bad decisions. I understand that."

 _Was this crazy bitch insane?_

"Have you lost your goddamn mind?" he asked her.

"In good times or bad, baby," she said with conviction. "Those are the vows we took. They still mean somethin'. This," she said, looking at her wedding ring and then holding up her hand so that Rick could look at it, too, "this still means somethin'."

 _This crazy bitch was insane._

"No, Lori," Rick quickly disagreed. "Not to me. Not anymore."

"You can't possibly mean that!" she screeched. "You can't! You're just bein' cruel because you're hurt!"

" **Me?!** " he asked in outraged disbelief. "I'm bein' cruel? Me? **Me?!** " he questioned, storming towards her.

Since our hands were still connected, he pulled me with him. When we were standing in front of her, he dropped into a squat to look directly into her eyes.

"How many times have you seen or held our child since he was born?" he asked her. "How many times have you even asked about him since you got back to King County?"

"I… Rick… you don't understand," she stammered.

"Answer the question! How many times?" he shouted.

We all knew the answer, but Lori stared at him without the decency of even looking ashamed.

 _This heartless bitch!_

"Not once!" he answered for her. "Not one time!"

She swallowed hard again but remained silent, not even attempting to offer an explanation or an apology for her apparent lack of interest in Nugget.

With a look of disgust darkly transforming his features, Rick leaned in closer to her. "You are the cruel one, Lori. You are!" he harshly whispered in her face.

"Rick!" she loudly gasped, surprised by his words and the coldness that accompanied them.

Though her bottom lip trembled and her eyes filled with actual tears, Rick was unaffected.

"Save your tears," he told her before abruptly standing from his squatting position. "Our son is..." he started to say before stopping himself.

My body tensed.

I was momentarily blinded by a flash of red fury.

 _Breathe, Michonne._

But I couldn't breathe.

He had just fucking said "our son" to _her_ after she shamelessly and unapologetically admitted that she didn't care about Nugget.

That was his second time saying it to her.

In addition to saying "your child."

In addition to saying "our child."

Both of my eyes twitched.

I respected that he was in the process of evicting this delusional bitch from the life she thought was still hers, but if he referred to Nugget as being theirs or hers one more time, I was going to LOSE. MY. SHIT.

DNA was no longer relevant in my eyes; Nugget was not her child.

Rick was his dadu. I was his Muhmuh. Nugget was-

"Our son," Rick said quietly, stealing my attention from my thoughts.

 _Goddamnit, Rick!_

I turned to him with every intention of lighting into his ass over his offensive choice of words, but when I looked at him, there was a gentle warmth radiating from his blue-eyed gaze that disarmed my anger and left me tongue-tied.

" _Our_ son," he repeated, looking deeply into my eyes and squeezing my hand, "is healthy, happy, brilliant, and he's loved."

And then, as if his verbal declaration hadn't just stolen every last air molecule from my lungs, he looked back down at Lori to add, "And you had absolutely nuthin' to do with that."

I couldn't breathe, I couldn't blink, all I could do was stare at Rick.

"He doesn't need you, Lori," he said.

I watched his mouth as it moved and I heard his voice, but I didn't… I couldn't… I wasn't… I…

 _Our son?_

"I don't need you, Lori," he said.

I took in a choppy breath.

"I don't want you, Lori," he said.

I thought of Nugget's healthy, happy, brilliant, and loved little self and blinked back joyful tears.

"Rick, please!" Lori cried out.

 _Our son!_

Rick gave my hand another quick squeeze before letting it go, and I watched in a bit of a daze as he twisted and then pulled off his wedding ring.

"And I don't want this," he said, letting the ring fall from his hand to the floor.

The ring landed with a soft thud next to Lori—a sound that must have been deafening to her ears. But to my ears, the sound was liberating. It lifted the weight that settled on my shoulders the day Rick and Lori exchanged I do's.

Rick had to be feeling infinitely lighter himself, but when I glanced at him, I couldn't get a read on anything except his anger. Without taking his squinting eyes off of Lori, his hand reached for mine and he slowly backed away from her, once again pulling me with him.

Lori was completely oblivious to the distance we were creating. She stared at the ring in a trance-like state until loud sobs racked through her body.

I sighed contentedly.

 _Our son._

"You aren't welcome here," Rick calmly said to her once her sobs died down. "This isn't your home anymore."

She gazed up at him with a pouty, tear-streaked face, looking very much like Nugget when he was throwing a tantrum.

"B-but, Rick, can I just… " she said between sniffles, "Can I just talk to you… alone… without-"

I narrowed my eyes.

"Without Michonne?" he asked in disbelief.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation and mumbled something under his breath. I couldn't understand what he said, but it sounded very rude and I didn't appreciate that he didn't say it louder.

"Let's get somethin' straight right now!" he said sharply. "This is Michonne's home! She doesn't need an invitation to be here. She doesn't need permission to be here."

Lori's pout grew more pronounced, but that scowl of hers was also itching to make an appearance.

"She is not the intruder here, Lori," Rick continued, "and she won't be treated like one. If you have somethin' to say to me, then you say it in front of Michonne, too!"

Fresh tears rolled down Lori's cheeks.

"And hear me loud and clear when I tell you this, because I won't say it again... If you ever, _ever_ raise a bat to Michonne in her home again or threaten her in any way, anywhere, I will show you cruel, Lori. I will make sure you regret the day you ever stepped foot in King County. Do you understand?"

The ice forming in her eyes was all the confirmation I needed, but Rick wanted a verbal response.

"Do you understand?" he growled.

"Yes, Rick," she whispered faintly.

"Then we're done talkin', Lori," he said evenly. "There's nuthin' left to say. There's nuthin' that changes what's happenin' right now."

She wiped away her tears and stared at him with a deep-set frown and then turned her thoroughly iced over eyes to me.

"You!" she hissed with a scowl on her face. "What did you do? What the hell did you tell him?!"

Rick pulled me closer to him, but he didn't need to worry about me attacking her. Physically harming Lori was no longer the prevalent thought running through my mind. A much more delectable thought had replaced it.

 _Mine!_

There was a giddiness that came from embracing the thought that I'd been so afraid of and confused by. So in the spirit of giddiness, I was going to have some fun using my words. I gave Rick's hand a reassuring squeeze and then smiled brightly at Lori.

"It's kind of funny how things work out if you think about it, isn't it Lori?" I asked, repeating what she said to me earlier. "Turns out that you're the one standing in my home uninvited and… Oh wait... You're not actually standing, are you? You're sniveling... on your knees... in _my_ home. Uninvited. Unwelcome," I said. "Sounds an awful lot like trespassing, don't you think?"

Lori glared at me with murder in her eyes.

"And I can do whatever I want to a trespasser, isn't that right, Lori?" I asked. "I can find a bat, or I can call the police, or maybe I can bury my fist in your face if I feel so inclined. And I feel so very, very inclined, Lori."

 _Break her jaw. Kick her teeth in._

So much for feeling giddy.

I looked at Rick.

"No," he silently said.

"Just one punch," I silently argued.

He gave me a "was I born yesterday?" look.

He was right. I wouldn't be able to stop after one punch. But I really didn't care for how he had such little faith in my ability to control myself. Before I could roll my eyes at him, Lori started clapping.

It was slow and condescending.

"You still think you're the smartest person in the room," she said when she was done clapping. "You still think you're better than everyone."

 _This slow clapping bitch!_

She held her side and winced as she got up from the floor. When she was standing, she put her hands on the bones she passed off as hips and scowled at me.

"You're wrong, Lori. I've never thought that I was better than everyone," I told her. "What I know is that I'm better than _you_."

Her jaw dropped and anger crept up her face, leaving behind a very red footprint. But instead of the hysterics I was expecting, she closed her mouth and jutted her chin out.

"Rick, do you remember what we did the night before Michonne moved in?" she asked, addressing him but looking at me. "Do you remember how we celebrated that six month mark? How we made love all night long?"

Over my dead body was I giving her the satisfaction of knowing I was bothered by what had just come out of her mouth, so I gagged on the inside and kept my face stony.

"Enough, Lori!" Rick shouted. "Either you walk outta this house right now or I remove you. Your choice."

"I didn't want to tell you like this, baby," she said to him, unconcerned by the options he'd presented. "But somethin' happened that night. Somethin' special."

Rick turned his back on her and moved in front of me, blocking her from my sight. The embarrassed and apologetic look on his face answered the unasked question I had about Lori's disgusting claim.

Since I was shielded from Lori, I quietly gagged. Rick waited patiently until I stopped.

"You done?" he whispered.

"I'm done," I whispered back.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he cleared his throat instead and said, "I need you to stay right here. Will you do that?"

"We did somethin' amazin', Rick," Lori chirped on.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes!_

I pulled my hand from Rick's and crossed my arms. I couldn't be mad at him for being with her in that way back then, but I didn't want to be touched by him while she described it.

"Michonne," he whispered.

I took a step away from him and backed into the counter. I wasn't mad at him, but the last thing I wanted to hear was my name coming out of his mouth right now.

"Mmhm," I mumbled, letting him know I would stay put.

He let out a frustrated sigh when I averted my eyes from his. I held in my own frustrated sigh when he walked away. This was the first time since the three of us were left alone that he left my side. The only reason he did so was to physically remove Lori from the house, but he was still walking away from me for her.

"Baby, I didn't know how to tell you," Lori said to Rick as he walked closer to her, "but I was in shock, and I made a bad decision. I didn't know what else to do."

I didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but my mind started racing to make sense of whatever she was alluding to.

"But I'm here now. I'm home. That's what matters," she said.

When Rick was close enough to grab her, she sidestepped him and ran to the table to create a barrier between them. She bumped the table when she ran around it, and I watched one of the Winnie the Pooh bottles fall on its side and roll off the table.

My stomach dropped.

 _ **No.**_

There was no way.

I tried to shake off what my gut was telling me, but my mind wouldn't let me.

It took me to the pink bags in the front room….

The bags full of toys...

 _ **No!**_

It took me to the car seat in the SUV…

The stuffed bunny next to it...

 _ **NO!**_

It took me to the farm where I first noticed Lori's fuller face…

And where she uttered those five infuriating words…

" _I'm a mother now, too!"_

"No!" I breathed out.

I turned around to grip the counter top behind me before my shaky legs gave out.

"Baby, I know you're upset," Lori said in a steady voice, "but you can't make me leave, Rick. Not when we have a child."

"Leave him outta this!" Rick bellowed.

"I'm not talkin' about _him_ , Rick. _We_ have a child," she said. "We have a daughter."

I broke out in a cold sweat.

My heart was pounding in my ears.

"What the… what the hell is wrong with you?" Rick asked.

"We have a daughter, Rick," she said again. "Her name is Judith Grace Grimes—named after your mother. She's six months old. She-"

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he asked again.

"Baby, I know it's a lot, but it's the God honest truth. Please just hear me out," she whined. "That mornin' Michonne went into labor, I wasn't feelin' well, so I went to the doctor. They ran some tests, and that's when I found out that I—that we, were three months pregnant. I didn't know what to do! I didn't know how to tell you or-"

"That's not possible!" Rick shouted.

It wasn't possible.

That impossibility was confirmed by specialists, and by specialists who gave second opinions, and by specialists who gave second opinions of second opinions.

That impossibility was why I went through all of the blood tests, and the medical screenings, and the hormone therapy. It was why after two unsuccessful embryo transfers, I was still willing to attempt a third. It was why I grinned and beared it through the symptoms of pregnancy, and the agony of labor, and the torture of delivery.

I gave up my body and changed my life based on Lori not being able to get pregnant.

"She's our miracle baby!" Lori said gleefully.

I tried desperately to catch my breath.

"Don't look at me like that, Rick!" she complained. "I knew Michonne would make you doubt this so I brought medical records, and pictures, and… and I brought her. I brought Judith, Rick!"

I couldn't be here anymore. I needed to leave.

I unsteadily walked out of the kitchen tuning out Rick's loud, irate voice and Lori's loud, whiny one while they stood at opposite ends of the table figuring whatever this was out. Instead of walking past them and making my way to the front door, my feet took me to the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

I stopped outside of Nugget's nursery.

My stomach was in knots.

I rested my forehead against the closed door, preparing myself for what I knew was behind it. When I opened the door, the undeniable powder fresh scent of a baby hit me.

It wasn't Nugget's powder fresh scent.

Tears quickly filled my eyes, but they didn't distort my vision enough to block out the baby energetically squirming in Nugget's crib. The sight of her, the sound of her, and the smell of her was too overwhelming. I bent over and dry-heaved, and then I vomited.

Everything that I thought was mine, wasn't.

Fucking Lori Grimes was right. Rick would never walk away from his child. And if this child was going to be a part of this home, then Lori was going to be a part of this home and Rick's life, too.

I needed to go.

I tried to stand up straight, but the room started spinning and my legs buckled.

I felt myself falling, and then everything was dark.

* * *

 **A/N: Fucking Lori Grimes, am I right? lol.**

 **Thanks again for reading! Reviews are always appreciated!**


	19. Have a Little Faith (part 1)

**A/N: Hi, everyone! I know it's been forever, and I'm so sorry for the long wait. Poor Michonne has been passed out since September. Writing has been slow going, but I was part of a challenge to post something by today, so I'm glad to finally be posting something!**

 **I was only able to edit the first half of the chapter, but the second half will be edited and posted later this week!** **We've moved out of the Bitches Be Crazy chapters, and now we get into the aftermath of bitches being crazy.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **To the anonymous GoodbyeRichonne troll: Fuck. Off.**

 **And a very special shout out to Nwfanmega for her much more eloquent response to the anonymous troll in the reviews! :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 19: Have a Little Faith (part 1)**

Something was wrong.

I was engulfed in darkness… I felt completely off-kilter, as if I was somehow both awake and still dreaming… and I was alone.

Something was very, very wrong, and I started to panic.

But panicking only seemed to push me deeper into darkness.

Being pushed deeper into darkness only made me panic more.

"Michonne!" a faint, muffled-sounding voice called out.

The voice sounded impossibly far away, but it instantly calmed me, soothing away the panic.

"Michonne!" the voice called out again. "Wake up!"

The voice sounded stronger and closer.

I wanted to respond to it—I was trying my hardest to do so, but I couldn't free myself from the darkness surrounding me. When I tried to move, the heaviness of it weighed me down. When I tried to speak, the thickness of it muted my voice.

"Open your eyes!" the voice called out.

The voice sounded louder, clearer.

And it sounded familiar.

 _Rick!_

"Michonne, open your eyes!" Rick repeated frantically. "Please."

His "please" was nothing more than a soft, broken whisper, but there was power in that plea. It pierced the darkness, and I felt myself propelling towards the light it created; I heard myself groan as I fought to open my eyes.

"That's it! Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes! Come back to me!" Rick whispered encouragingly.

When my eyes finally fluttered open, his very relieved face filled my vision.

"Thank God!" he shakily sighed out.

As I blinked myself out of darkness, I felt his hand tenderly cradle the side of my face.

"Michonne? Michonne, are you ok?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion. "How are you feelin'? Are you dizzy? Are you havin' any problems breathin'? Do you need somethin' to drink? Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

Because I still felt slightly off-kilter, his rapid-fire questions overwhelmed me. While my mind tried to sort and make sense of them, I groggily stared at his face.

"You gotta talk to me, Michonne," he gently demanded. "You gotta let me know that you're ok. Or let me know if you're not so I can figure out how to make thangs better. Ok, Michonne?"

 _God, I love that face._

I visually savored it, indulging on the perfection of his forehead, his chin, and everything in between.

For the briefest of moments, Rick's perfect eyebrows raised in surprise, but then his perfect dimples deepened as his perfect smile spread across his perfect face.

 _I really, really love that face._

"Hey," he whispered, delicately rubbing his thumb up and down my cheek.

"Hey," I whispered, smiling back at him and delighting in his feather-light touch.

"Michonne," he said softly with a serious look on his face. "I need you to focus right now. I need to know if you're ok."

His eyes were begging me to set his worried mind at ease, but I wasn't sure that I could. Although most of the darkness had lifted from my mind, the feeling that something was wrong persisted. I tore my eyes from Rick's and looked around, hoping to see something that would help me make sense of what I was feeling.

I stared in confusion at the wall with the words "Dream Big, Little One" stretching across it. Rick and I painted those words on the wall next to Nugget's crib after he turned four months old. Since the last clear memory I had was of me, Rick, and Fucking Lori Grimes in the kitchen, I was at a loss as to why I was laying flat on my back on the floor of Nugget's nursery and why Rick was sitting on his knees by my side.

The feeling that something was very, very wrong cemented itself in the pit of my stomach.

"Rick, what happened?" I anxiously asked.

He rubbed his thumb up and down my cheek one last time before sandwiching one of my hands between both of his.

"You don't remember anythang?" he questioned.

I ran through my memories again, but they still ended with the three of us in the kitchen.

"You were about to kick that bitch out of the house," I told him, walking him through my memories, "...and then she ran around the kitchen table."

I tried to remember more, but my mind wouldn't cooperate.

"Everything gets fuzzy after that," I told him.

I waited for Rick to fill me in on what I wasn't remembering, but he only offered silence. Even his face, which had been so expressive moments ago, was unreadable.

"Rick, what happened?" I asked again, doing my best to keep my panic at bay.

Though his face remained neutral, he couldn't control the nervous bobbling of his Adam's apple before he began speaking.

"So, well, we—you, me, and Lori, we were in the kitchen… just like you said… and then…"

"And then?" I asked when he didn't continue.

"And then..." he trailed off, looking down at my hand while he carefully chose his next words. "And then you weren't in the kitchen anymore," he said, looking at me again. "I figured you were either in here or headin' for your car. I checked here first."

Though I was tempted to start shooting daggers at Rick with my eyes, I was going to let him finish giving me this watered down account of events; he and I would be circling back to that "and then" when he was done.

"I got here right as you were goin' down," he said, holding onto my hand tighter.

 _Right as I was going down?_

"I caught you before you hit the floor."

 _Before I hit the floor?… Wait..._

"What?!" I exclaimed, shooting up into a sitting position.

I immediately felt lightheaded.

"Whoa! Hey, hey, hey!" Rick said in a panicked voice when I heavily leaned into him with my eyes squeezed shut. "Let's get you back down, Michonne."

Without waiting for my response, he cupped the back of my head with one of his hands and gently pressed me back down with the other.

"Just breath through it," he said when I was laying on my back again. "You're gonna be fine, 'Chonne. I'm right here."

I listened to the comforting cadence of Rick's voice as he continued to talk me through my dizziness. Once it passed, I slowly opened my eyes, and once again, Rick's handsome, relieved face filled my vision.

"Feelin' better?"

I was, but that wasn't my concern.

"I fainted?" I asked, searching my mind for even a sliver of a memory of me passing out.

"You did," he confirmed.

"And you caught me?" I asked, warmed by the thought of him being here by my side the entire time.

"I did," he confirmed, rubbing his hand across my stomach.

"After you threw up in my baby's room!" Lori's irritated voice chimed in.

Rick's head swiveled in the direction of her voice. My eyes shot up to the ceiling.

 _Of fucking course!_

Of course she was still here in the house. Of course she was inserting herself in a conversation that she was neither invited to nor welcome to join. Of course she would start something when she knew I couldn't get up and finish it.

"Why are you in here, Lori?" Rick asked harshly.

He carefully pulled his hand from underneath my head to turn towards her, although he kept his other hand on my stomach to hold me down.

"I can be in here, Rick! Despite what Michonne would have you believe, I'm not a monster! I'm checkin' to make sure she's ok," she said defensively.

"Lori!" Rick growled in warning.

"And she looks ok to me," she proclaimed. "She looks perfectly fine to get up and leave and give us our privacy, baby."

 _Oh. My. God._

She had to be the most ignorant, most exhausting bitch ever! Physically, I was unable to do anything about that, but my mouth was in no way incapacitated. I was more than happy to let her ignorant, exhausting ass know all about herself… until I saw her standing in the doorway.

I was fully expecting to see her scowling face, and her icy brown eyes, and her flat, limp hair with those inexcusable split ends, and her crossed arms. What I wasn't expecting to see was her holding a baby.

Her baby.

Her baby with Rick.

Named Judith Grace Grimes.

After Rick's mother.

My eyes shot back up to the ceiling.

My memory was no longer fuzzy.

I remembered everything… Rick going for Lori; Lori running around the table; Lori announcing that she and Rick have a daughter. I remembered walking out of the kitchen; standing outside of the nursery; seeing that baby in Nugget's crib; vomiting before my world turned dark.

I pressed my lips together to keep a whimper from escaping past them.

I finally knew what was so very, very wrong…

My heart was slowly breaking.

 _Don't you dare cry, Michonne._

"Lori, we agreed that you would wait in another room!" Rick snapped.

With my memory in tact, I suddenly became aware of the bitter taste in my mouth and a dampness on my chest. I cringed when I looked down at the wet stain on my pajama top making my top cling to my chest.

"That's not fair!" Lori whined. "That's just not fair, Rick!"

My eyes swept the floor. I cringed when I saw the puddle of vomit a few feet away.

"You aren't helpin' right now, so go!" Rick ordered.

"But why? Why should I be sequestered in my own home?" she argued. "And what about Judy? She needs to spend time with her daddy!"

I cringed again.

Her daddy.

Rick was someone else's dadu.

Rick was Lori's baby's dadu.

"We'll finish discussin' thangs later, Lori," he growled.

"She's not a thang, Rick! She's our daughter! Who needs you a hell of a lot more than _Mi-chonne_ does right now! Remember that while you're in here playin' doctor!" she screeched before stomping down the hallway. "And make sure _someone_ cleans up that vomit!" she shouted.

She slammed a door, which I knew without a shadow of doubt was the door to Rick's bedroom. Because of fucking course she would hide out in Rick's bedroom.

The sound of that baby wailing immediately followed the door slam.

 _Fucking. Lori. Grimes._

I felt a very volatile mix of emotions—rage, outrage, anger, heartache, shock, confusion, fear, disappointment—swelling within me. I had no idea what effect this mix would have on me when it burst, so I needed to leave. Now.

"I'm so sorry, 'Chonne," Rick said, turning back to me. "She wasn't supposed to… Michonne, what are you doin'?" he asked after I pushed his hand off my stomach and started to sit up. "You should lay back down."

"I'm fine," I told him.

"You were just unconscious," he reminded me. "You could barely sit up a few minutes ago."

"I'm sitting up now," I huffed. "I'm fine."

I tried to push myself up from the floor, but Rick stopped me with a tug on my arm.

"Stop," he said. "Rest. Just a little longer."

Rick had no idea what he was asking of me. A little longer may as well have been an eternity. I know he was worried and was trying to help, but it was too much for me to be here right now—too much to be around Fucking Lori Grimes, too much to be around that baby, and too much to be around him.

"Michonne, listen, I was gonna tell you," he hurriedly explained. "I was gonna tell you what Lori is claimin', but I didn't wanna upset you so soon after you passed out."

"Thank you for that, Rick. Thanks for not upsetting me," I said sarcastically. "Are you helping me up or not?" I asked, pulling my arm from him.

He let out a sigh of frustration. "And then what? You're leavin'?"

I could already see that me leaving was going to be a problem.

"No, Rick," I said softly. "Then you go get Lori, we head to the kitchen, and the three of us sit down at the table and have an open and honest conversation about everything that's happened over this last year," I told him. "We figure this out together."

His eyes bore into mine, determining if I was being truthful. Whatever he saw in mine made him roll his a few seconds later.

"So you're leavin'," he stated flatly.

"Of course I'm leaving, Rick!" I snapped. "I should've left in the first place! I can't be here right now. I shouldn't be here. I just had to see if… if what she said was true. It is, and now I need to go. Are you helping me up or not?"

Rick's face started to set in a stubborn expression.

"Fine. I'll get up on my own," I said, paying no mind to the hard set of his jaw, his pouty lips, and his furrowed brow.

"Dammit, Michonne! Wait! Just wait!" he grumbled as I started to push myself up again.

I narrowed my eyes when he rubbed the bridge of his nose and mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like "hardheaded."

"Put your arm around my shoulders," he grumbled after getting into a squatting position beside me.

Because I desperately wanted to get out of this house, I was going to let his "hardheaded" and his grumbling slide. I hooked my arm around his shoulders and he hooked his arm around my waist, and then we slowly rose together until we were standing. I held onto Rick tightly, waiting for the dizziness to hit. When it didn't and I was confident that it wasn't going to, I pulled my arm from around his shoulders.

He kept his arm around my waist.

"Thanks, Rick," I said, looking up at him.

He looked down at me with that stubborn expression of his.

I ignored it and raised my eyebrows, telling him to let go.

He looked me straight in the eyes and ignored me.

"Oh my God," I groaned, trying to pull away from him.

I felt the muscles in his arm harden as he tightened his grip.

"Let go!" I demanded.

"No," he stubbornly retorted.

"Rick! You better let—Aaagh!" I yelped as he scooped me up into his arms. "Richard Arthur Grimes, put me down right now!"

I tried to jump out of them, but he all of a sudden had arms of steel.

"I don't want to be here, Rick!" I hissed.

"Yeah, I know," he answered gruffly.

"I'm not staying!" I hissed.

"Yeah, I know that, too," he answered gruffly, and then in a softer tone he asked, "but at least let me help you get cleaned up before you leave? Please?"

 _Shit._

There was that "please" again, and my resolve to run out of the house as fast as my feet could carry me was instantly weakened. Rick didn't need to know how easily he affected me though, so I looked down at my top as if I was contemplating his request.

"I guess a clean shirt wouldn't hurt," I mumbled.

"It wouldn't," he wholeheartedly agreed, barely containing a smile as he walked towards the door. "And neither would a toothbrush," he added under his breath.

 _A tooth—what?!_

I quickly covered my mouth with one hand and hit his shoulder with the other.

"I can't believe you just said that!" I grumbled into my hand.

Only Rick Grimes would have the nerve to bring up my not-so-fresh breath after I had thrown up and fainted because of his psycho bitch wife and her bullshit.

"What?" he innocently asked, though I could plainly see the dimple in his cheek deepening.

"Real classy, Grimes," I said into my hand with an eye roll. "And have you forgotten how I have never, ever said a thing about that time you threw up on me?"

He stopped walking and looked at me incredulously.

"We were eight years old, Michonne, and I told you I didn't wanna ride that roller coaster. But somehow I ended up on it with you anyways. And you called me 'yuck mouth' for the entire summer!"

I held in a laugh and hid my smile behind my hand.

"I don't recall that at all," I claimed.

"Uh huh," he replied, walking around the puddle of throw up and out of the nursery.

He walked us past his closed bedroom door, and though I tried to hold onto the lightness of our childhood memory, it was no match for the dark feelings that Lori and that baby, who was no longer crying, evoked. Before I could attempt to jump out of Rick's arms and make a run for the front door, he held onto me tighter and continued walking down the hallway.

 _Fucking arms of steel!_

When we reached the end of the hallway, he turned into what had been my bedroom and turned on the light. It was jarring how bare the room looked without all my things filling it up, but because it was so bare, the unmade bed with Nugget's favorite blankie on top of it immediately caught my eye.

I looked at Rick in surprise.

"You've been sleeping in here?" I asked into my hand.

Other than the pink slowly tinting his cheeks, he looked completely unfazed by my question.

"Carl has," he said casually, walking towards the bathroom.

"Carl?" I asked.

"Mmhm," he answered.

"My little Nugget?" I asked.

"Mmhm," he answered.

"Who just turned one?" I asked.

"Michonne, did the meanin' of 'mmhm' change without anyone tellin' me?" he inquired. "And uncover your mouth. You know I don't care about you bein' a yuck mouth."

I kept my hand over my mouth.

"Rick, did Nugget start sleeping in beds by himself without anyone telling me?" I inquired.

He walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, and looked at me with slightly pinker cheeks.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said as if I had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. "After you moved out, when Carl would get fussy or was missin' you, it calmed him down to sleep in here," he said. "Obviously I had to sleep in here with him."

"Obviously," I smirked.

But I just didn't have it in me to sufficiently tease Rick about how he must have missed me too, not when the thought of Nugget being comforted by my room instead of by me was so upsetting. I should have put my squabble with Rick aside and been there for him, even if it was just to stop by for a goodnight snuggle.

"Stop that," Rick admonished. "He doesn't even remember missin' you. He remembers how happy he was to see you on Saturday, and he remembers all that cake you gave him on Sunday. He's ok, Michonne," he said, setting me down on my feet but keeping his arm wrapped around my waist.

"But I should've-"

"Did he poop on you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "'Cuz I got projectile pooped on when he was mad at me."

"No poop," I said, smiling behind my hand.

"Well there you go," he smiled. "The proof is in the poop. If he held anythang against you, he woulda pooped on you."

Seeing that his poop pep talk had placated me, Rick's face turned serious as he studied mine.

"Still feelin' ok? Not dizzy?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I told him, speaking into my hand. "Just like I was fine in the nursery."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbled, giving my waist a light squeeze and then letting go of me.

I pulled my arm from around his shoulders. When he stepped away from me to open a sink drawer, I finally dropped my hand from my mouth. To my surprise, he pulled a purple toothbrush still in its packaging out of the drawer. After three very comical attempts to open the packaging, he finally succeeded and handed the toothbrush to me.

"Got it for you the day after you moved out," he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I knew you'd eventually be back over here, so I went shoppin' for some of the thangs you would need."

I rolled my eyes at his presumptuousness but was secretly touched that he had prepared for my inevitable return.

"Check the medicine cabinet," he said, throwing the packaging away.

I opened it and snorted in delight.

"Spearmint and baking soda!" I grinned, grabbing the tube of toothpaste. "My favorite!"

I took my toothpaste very seriously, so it was truly a relief to see that green and white tube.

"Your favorite," he beamed, grinning at me through the mirror.

Rick's grin almost made me forget why I needed a toothbrush and toothpaste in the first place. Almost.

 _What the hell am I doing?_

I looked at my reflection.

The brownish colored, salad plate-sized vomit stain was all the reminder I needed that I had absolutely nothing to grin about right now. Not when Fucking Lori Grimes and that baby were holed up in Rick's room. Not when I had just lost so much.

"Michonne," Rick said, sounding worried and no longer grinning. "We should t-"

"Thank you for the toothpaste and toothbrush, Rick," I said curtly, cutting him off.

I didn't want to talk. I was going to brush my teeth, and then I was going to leave.

Rick swallowed hard and nodded before walking over to the bathtub and sitting on its edge. When I started brushing my teeth, I felt his stare on me through the mirror. I avoided it. A few seconds later, I disregarded his presence altogether when Fucking Lori Grimes' words started assaulting my mind.

" _I will win. Because_ _Rick will never walk away from me. He will never walk away from his child."_

I slowly moved my toothbrush back and forth.

" _We have a daughter, Rick."_

" _She's our miracle baby!"_

I slowly moved my toothbrush up and down.

" _Rick chose me! He loves me!"_

" _You can't have what's mine."_

My toothbrush sat still in my mouth.

"Don't," Rick said, drawing me from my thoughts.

Our eyes connected in the mirror. I was surprised to see him standing next to me.

"Don't do that. Don't get lost in your head, Michonne," he pleaded, placing his hand on my lower back. "Talk to me."

I gave him a small smile and then refocused my attention on cleaning my mouth. Without the distraction of Fucking Lori Grimes, I spent a good twenty minutes ensuring that my teeth, gums, and tongue felt fresh. Rick stood by my side the entire time, rubbing my lower back.

"Rick, I'd like that clean shirt now," I said as naturally as possible after I rinsed my mouth.

Because he didn't immediately respond to my request and only stared at me through the mirror, I suspected that he suspected that my request was insincere. Then his eyes shifted to my top.

"Of course," he said, gently patting my lower back. "I'll go get you one."

I stayed behind in the bathroom and listened to him leave the room. When I thought he'd walked far enough down the hallway, I tiptoed to the bedroom door and peeked around the door frame. Rick was standing outside of his bedroom door and rubbing the bridge of his nose. I watched as he took a deep breath, put his hand around the doorknob, and then stepped into the room.

 _One-one thousand. Two-one thousand. Three-one thousand._

The coast was clear.

I quickly and quietly walked out of my room and down the hallway leading to the front room. I maneuvered past the piles of luggage and made it to the front door. When I heard Rick and Fucking Lori Grimes' voices start to rise, I very carefully opened the door wide enough to slip out of the house, and then I very carefully closed the door behind me.

I took a second to sigh in relief, and then I ran off the porch to my car. I barely processed that Lori's SUV, and all the glass and debris that had flown off of it, was gone, but I did notice that my car door, which I had left open, was now closed.

 _Shit!_

Morales or Noah must have closed it. Since I'd dropped my keys in my car before deciding to kick the front door down, I prayed that my car door had just been closed and not locked.

 _Please be unlocked. Please be unlocked. Please be unlocked._

I grabbed the door handle and lifted it up.

The door opened.

 _Thank God!_

I saw my keys peeking out from under the passenger's seat, so I crawled across the driver's seat to the passenger's seat to get them. Before I could reach down to pick them up, I heard the front door open.

 _Fuck!_

I froze in place and watched Rick walk onto the front porch. He had a shirt in his hand and a pissed off look on his face.

 _Fuck!_

He looked straight into my car.

 _Fuck!_

He tilted his head and squinted his eyes.

 _Fuck!_

He started walking over with his angry bowlegged strut.

 _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

When he was standing outside the passenger side window, he bent down to look me in my eyes. "What. Are. You. Doin'?" he asked.

Whether I was honest and told him I was sneaking out or I lied about it, Rick's response was going to be the same, so I didn't say anything. I reached for my keys. My fingers had just grazed the keyring when Rick's arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me out of my car.

 _What the hell?!_

Rick slammed my car door shut and set me down against it.

I put my hands on my hips and glared at him.

He tilted his head and squinted his eyes at me.

"You were just gonna leave without sayin' anythang? Without sayin' goodbye?" he asked.

"I'm leaving, Rick. Goodbye," I said, turning to my car door and opening it.

He reached around me and closed it.

"You think I'm lettin' you drive off?" he asked. "At 4 somethin' in the mornin'? After you fainted? With no shoes? And covered in vomit?"

I scoffed and turned back around to face him.

"You want to rethink your word choice, Richard? Last time I checked, you didn't have the authority to _let_ me do anything."

He ran his hand down his face and then took a deep breath.

"You know that's not how I meant it, Michonne," he said tersely. "All I'm askin' is if you really think leavin' is the best thang for you to do right now?"

"Yes," I answered. "It is."

I turned away from him and opened my car door.

He reached around me and closed it.

"It's not," he argued. "You don't have to run away, Michonne. This is your home! Have I not made that clear?"

I laughed in disbelief.

"My home?" I asked as I turned back to him.

"Yes, Michonne. Your home!"

That volatile mix of emotions, which had shrunken after Rick picked me up in the nursery, was swelling again, and my rage was jockeying for the dominant position.

"This isn't my home, Rick! If it was, your wife's shit wouldn't be littering my front room! And that baby would have _never_ been sleeping in Nugget's crib! And neither of them would be holed up in your bedroom right now!" I whisper-shouted, keeping in mind that we were outside at 4 something in the morning.

"And I'm gonna handle that," he asserted.

"Oh, I'm sure you will," I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

"Meanin' what?" he asked sharply.

"Meaning you were supposed to have handled that before I fainted. But she's still here! She's still calling this house her home. She's still fucking calling you 'baby', Rick!"

"What was I supposed to do?" he asked in frustration. "You passed out! Was I supposed to leave you there unconscious while I tossed her out? That's what you would've wanted?"

"Yes!" I answered.

"Bullshit!" he whisper-shouted. "And you know I'd never leave you alone like that."

I knew he wouldn't and I wouldn't have wanted him to, but that didn't matter at this point. My emotions were swelling and I was too riled up.

"What do you want from me, Rick? You want me to hold your hand while you talk to Lori?"

"No!" he answered through gritted teeth.

"You want me to sit quietly in a corner while you two talk things out?" I asked.

"No!"

"You want me on baby duty so you two can have your privacy? Is that it? You think I'm going to watch that baby while you two work your shit out?"

"No! Of course n-"

"Uh uh," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not doing any of that, and I'm not going back in there and waiting around for you to decide..."

I shook my head again, turned away from him, and opened my car door.

Rick closed it.

"To decide what?" he asked.

 _Do not cry, Michonne._

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

My heartache had overtaken my rage as my emotions continued to swell.

"For me to decide what, Michonne?" Rick asked in a softer voice, turning me around to face him.

I crossed my arms and looked away from him, preferring to direct my gaze at the garage door because the garage door didn't have concerned blue eyes that were about to make me start bawling.

Rick let out a long, frustrated breath.

"Michonne, I'm not askin' you to stay to help me deal with Lori. I will handle that. I will," he promised. "I'm askin' you to stay because you belong here. You know that. And I know you're not ok right now because I'm still not ok either," he said, cupping my elbow with his hand and pulling me closer to him. "But you and me? We get back to being ok together."

The sincerity of his words drew my eyes back to him.

"And honestly, watchin' you pass out scared the shit outta me. If anythang happened to you while you were drivin', I couldn't live with that," he said with a shaky voice. "Stay," he whispered.

There was a part of me that genuinely appreciated what he said, but my anger overtook my heartache as my emotions continued to swell.

"Thank you for your concern, Rick," I snipped, shaking his hand off my elbow, "but I'm fine. You should go back inside to your wife and your daughter. They need you. I don't."

I turned away from him and opened my car door.

"Bullshit!" he whisper-shouted as he shut the door. "Would you stop bein' so goddamn stubborn?! You don't think I wanted thangs to go differently? This is a shitty situation, I know it is, but-"

"This surpasses shitty, Rick!" I whisper-shouted, turning back to him. "Your wife—your infertile wife, had your baby! When I was pregnant because she supposedly couldn't get pregnant, she was also pregnant! That's so completely and thoroughly fucked up, Rick!"

"We don't even know if what Lori's sayin' is true, Michonne!"

My eyes widened in disbelief. I felt the temperature of my anger start to rise.

"So you didn't fuck her the night before I moved in?" I questioned.

His jaw tensed and he stared at me without answering.

"It's a yes or no answer, Rick. Did you fuck your wife the night before I moved in?"

"Yes," he answered hoarsely.

"And did you use a condom? Was she on birth control?"

"Mich-"

"Yes or no, Rick!"

"No," he croaked.

"That's what I thought. So do I really need to stand here and tell you that while you were fucking your wife _all night long_ without using any type of birth control, you got her pregnant? Jesus, Rick!"

I turned away from him and opened my car door.

Rick closed it.

"You pissed at me for sleepin' with her?"

"YES!" I shouted, turning back to him. "Yes, Rick! I'm pissed at you for sleeping with her! You got her PREG-NANT!"

"You don't get to be pissed at me for sleepin' with my wife back then!" Rick fumed. "And you don't get to be pissed at me for not usin' a goddamn condom! You know how long we tried! You know what the doctors said! Gettin' pregnant wasn't supposed to be a possibility!"

"Yeah, well, evidently nothing is impossible. Your miracle baby proves that. Congratulations," I said dryly.

"Michonne, even if she is mine, I can be her father without bein' Lori's husband."

"Bullshit, Rick!" I shouted. "I asked you on Saturday if you still had feelings for her, and do you remember what you said? You said you didn't know—you didn't know how you would feel if she popped up because she was still your wife! Because you missed her fucking haircuts!"

"Do not twist my words!" he growled. "I said I was still sortin' through thangs, and that had nuthin' to do with haircuts. I told you yesterday at Hershel's that I knew how I felt about her. I just showed you how I feel about her! I took off my ring, Michonne! I told her she's not welcome in this house! I was about to throw her out!"

"That was before you knew about that baby!" I argued.

"That baby doesn't change anythang!"

"That baby changes everything, Rick!" I shouted.

Rick's lack of awareness was frustrating me to no end! It made no sense that he could be so blind to the future that awaited him.

I backed away from him until I was leaning against my car because being so close to him made me want to scream. I looked down at my toes because the sight of him made me want to scream.

But even my toes were making me want to scream!

My nails were supposed to have a red glitter polish on them to complement my Wonder Woman costume, but my Saturday night saké bingeing and my Sunday morning hangover put a kibosh on that.

Almost every fucking thing, even the simple things, had gone wrong.

I was on the verge of belting out all of my frustration when the tip of Rick's size 11 New Balance gently nudged one of my big toes.

I stared at his foot as it gently nudged my toe again.

"Hey," Rick said in a soft but strained voice.

 _No._

I knew what he was doing, and it was not the time for heys.

"Lori came back with a ready-made family, Rick. She came back with the one thing you've always wanted with her," I muttered.

A feeling of dread crept up my spine, and my fear overtook my anger as my emotions continued to swell.

"If you had just waited a little while longer..." I said slowly. "At some point, Rick, you're going to regret… you're going to think it was a mistake-"

"Maybe at some point _you'll_ regret havin' Carl!" Rick angrily interjected. "Maybe _you'll_ think he was a mistake!"

His words felt like a very sharp slap to my face.

"I would never!" I exploded, standing up straight and glaring at him. "Take that back, Rick! Right now!"

"Don't insult me, and I won't insult you!" he snapped. "I would never think that you givin' me the family I've always wanted was a mistake. _Never!_ Don't ever think it or say it again!"

I looked into Rick's hurt eyes and felt that swell of emotion within me deflate. As upset as I was, I never wanted the conversation to deteriorate into this. We needed to stop before something else unspeakable was mistakenly spoken.

"Rick, I need to go," I said numbly.

He stared at me with glassy blue eyes and a face reddened from our heated exchange. Before I could turn away from him, he turned away from me and dazedly walked towards the garage. He stopped in front of it and stood there, looking up at the sky with his hands on his hips.

His shoulders rose and fell as he took deep breaths, and I wanted nothing more than to run to him and wrap my arms around him. I wanted to cry with him and shout with him and commiserate with him over how fucked up this all was, but I couldn't. I wouldn't. Fucking Lori Grimes and that baby occupied too much space in my mind for me to see him as anything other than theirs.

 _No tears, Michonne._

Rick started walking back to me, and I composed myself the best that I could. When he stopped in front of me, he held out the hand that was still gripping the clean shirt he'd brought me from the house.

"Take it," he said.

I looked at it and shook my head.

"Take it, Michonne," he insisted.

"I don't need it, Rick. I'll be fine with what I have on until I get to my condo."

"Take it anyways," he said. "I'd feel better if you did."

I sighed and reluctantly took it from him.

The truth of the matter was that Rick's scent would be all over that shirt—I could already smell it, and I didn't want that much of a reminder of him when I was alone in my condo.

"You wanna go to the side of the house to change? There aren't any lights on over there, and I can block you from the street to give you some privacy," he suggested, knowing I wasn't stepping foot in the house.

"That's ok, Rick. I'm not, uh, I'm not wearing a bra, so I'll figure something else out," I said, looking around awkwardly after Rick's eyebrows raised in surprise and he glanced at my chest. "But thanks for the offer."

He cleared his throat. "Oh.. yeah… so… So, you're sure you're ok to drive?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, Rick," I answered, truthfully.

"And you're goin' straight to your condo?"

"Yes, Rick," I answered, not so truthfully.

I was heading straight to Daryl's, and then I was heading to my condo. I really, really needed to see my Nugget.

"Uh huh," he said, taking a step closer to me. "So… I'll probably stop by your condo after I talk to Lori?" he asked, although it sounded more like he was telling me.

I tried not to give him a look, not because of how he said what he said but because of what he said. I honestly didn't expect to see him anytime soon. I was certain that talking to Lori was going to result in a reconciliation.

Rick sighed and took another step closer to me. He was standing so close that I had to tilt my head back to look up at him.

He looked down at me and I felt a little mesmerized by those blue eyes that looked so tired but were still so piercing.

"You're going to get vomit on your shirt," I said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

He stepped even closer.

"I'll stop by your condo after," he said.

My eyes drifted to his lips…

"I'm not askin' you to wait up for me..."

I watched them as they moved…

"I have a key. I can let myself in."

His perfectly pink lips...

 _Shit._

Not this again.

"Sure, yeah, whatever," I said abruptly, turning from him and opening my car door.

I draped his tshirt over my headrest and then crawled across the seats to pick up my keys. I didn't think about the view I was giving Rick until after the keys were in my hand. But things were only awkward if you made them awkward, so I backed out of the car as gracefully as possible, ignored Rick's flaming red cheeks, sat in the driver's seat, buckled up, and cranked up my car.

"Be safe," Rick said, bending down to look me in the eyes."And when you see Carl, give him a kiss for me."

I internally rolled my eyes because he knew me too well.

"If you feel dizzy or offbalance at all, you pull over, Michonne," he advised.

"I will, Rick. I'll be safe," I told him. "I promise."

He looked me over and then nodded his head. "Ok," he said, shutting the door, although it seemed as though he didn't really want to.

"Ok," I replied, not really wanting to leave him but reversing out of the driveway nonetheless.

I watched him watching me drive away, terrified of what I would see the next time I saw him.

* * *

 **A/N: The second half of the chapter will be up this week! Thank you for reading! Reviews are appreciated!**


	20. Have a Little Faith (part 2)

**A/N: Thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting, or following! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **20\. Have a Little Faith (part 2)**

I drove six houses up the street and parked outside of Daryl's house. My eyes were locked on my rearview mirror.

I was still watching Rick; Rick was still watching me.

Only after he trudged back to his front porch and stepped inside the house did I stop looking in the mirror.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck!_

I closed my eyes and leaned forward until my forehead was resting on my steering wheel.

When I heard Daryl's front door open, I kept my head where it was resting and blindly felt around for the lock button. Almost immediately after I unlocked the passenger door, Daryl opened it and got in the car.

"Yeah, she's still here," he said, and I knew he was talking to Rick on his phone. "Not sure… Uh huh… Uh huh… You need help with that?… Ok… Yeah… I'll try, man… Ok… Ok… Ok, I said I'll try! Calm down, crazy!… Uh huh… Alright… Yeah... I will. Bye," he said, ending the call. "It's almost 5 in the goddamn mornin," he grumbled as he slammed the door shut. "Lori is the goddamn devil!"

"You'll try what, D?" I asked, not moving my head.

When he didn't answer, I sat up and looked at him. "You'll try what, Daryl?"

"Goddamn, 'Chonne!" he grimaced. "You look like shit!"

Before I could kindly tell him to shut the hell up, I noticed the baby monitor in his hand and snatched it from him. The live stream of my sleeping Nugget was enough to stop my heart from breaking completely.

"And you stink!" Daryl rudely grumbled.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reaching for the door handle, but I locked the doors and hit the window lock button for good measure.

"You'll try what, Daryl?" I asked again. "I know you were talking to Rick."

He made a show of pulling his shirt up over his nose and leaning as far away from me as possible before he answered.

"He wants me to get you to stay at my place," he said through his shirt.

"Not happening," I quickly replied.

"Figured as much, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to hear that," he said through his shirt.

"I'm not exactly in the mood to argue about it, so how about we don't!" I snapped.

I looked down at Nugget on the monitor and felt my irritation dissolve. "You haven't had any problems with him? He wasn't fussy?"

"Nah, Little Asskicker's been out like a light since I got him," Daryl said through his shirt. "I thought he'd be up because of the sirens or from all that drama when Rick and them pulled up, but he musta been worn out from earlier."

From earlier… when Nugget was practically in hysterics after Panty Man unexpectedly dropped by my condo.

"Fuckin' asshole," Daryl grumbled through his shirt.

That fucking asshole made my eye twitch, but my Panty Man emotion was going to have to take a backseat to my Fucking Lori Grimes emotion for the time being.

"GodDAMN, 'Chonne! Can you put the windows down?! You stink!" Daryl griped.

I rolled my eyes and lowered all the windows.

My stomach suddenly dropped.

 _Drama from when Rick pulled up?_

"Daryl, when did Rick hand Nugget off to you?"

Daryl made a show of sticking his head out of the car and inhaling fresh air before he answered.

"Right around the time you were bustin' out the taillights," he said after he brought his head back in the car.

 _Huh?_

"What?" I asked in confusion. "You were there?"

"The whole neighborhood was there, 'Chonne. You were hollerin' at the top of your lungs. The sound of bat on SUV is also hard to ignore at two in the mornin'."

 _Huh?_

"What? The whole neighborhood?" I asked in confusion.

"Yeah, there was a crowd. Annette's friend Birdie was leadin' us in a chant at one point," he laughed. "No one can stand Lori's ass! This street is definitely Team Michick… Mirick… Rickchonne… Richonne! This street is Team Richonne."

I looked down at the monitor and felt my chest tightening.

"He saw me? Nugget saw me like that?" I asked in horror, staring at him on the screen.

"Nah, I told you he was asleep," Daryl said, sticking his head out of the car again.

I'd been so worried about Fucking Lori Grimes ruining Nugget's birthday, but between Rick being so out of control that he had to be restrained in a chokehold and me being so out of control that I'd taken LuLu to Lori's SUV, Rick and I hadn't exactly been creating the best first birthday memories.

I clutched the monitor to my chest.

What if our violent and aggressive behavior left a lasting impression on Nugget? What if we had just shaped the way in which he communicated and resolved conflicts? What if this was how little future serial killers got their start?

"Stop bein' so dramatic," Daryl grumbled. "He's one! You've got a few more years before he starts rememberin' shit he can blame you for in twenty years, so you're good. Besides, if any memory does stick, it'll be you teachin' him to say 'shit!'"

I rolled my eyes and groaned.

"Which Greene told you?" I asked.

"It was actually the Rhee," he laughed.

I shook my head. Big mouths. All of them!

"Daryl," I said in threatening voice, "you better not encourage him to keep saying 'shit'."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he smirked.

I groaned again.

"But seriously, 'Chonne, don't beat yourself up over what happened," he said with sincerity. "You did somethin' good. You fucked up Lori's shit, and you brought the community together."

"I… what?" I asked.

"The Jenners—they live two houses down—they started organizin' the next neighborhood cookout. I'm bringin' your famous peach cobbler," he told me. "By the way, I'm gonna need you to make your famous peach cobbler next month."

 _Oh my God._

The entire neighborhood saw me lose my shit _and_ they planned a neighborhood potluck because of it. I leaned forward and rested my head on my steering wheel again.

Daryl laughed at me and pulled me back up. He was about to wrap his arms around me but stopped himself and stuck his head out the window. After he inhaled deeply and held his breath, he brought his head back in the car and pulled me in for an awkward one-armed hug to avoid the vomit.

"GODDAMN! You stink so bad!" he shouted a few seconds later, holding his head away from me.

"Shut up," I mumbled, breaking free from his hug and pushing him away.

"Can we get outta this car now? I have furniture that I enjoy sittin' on in a house that doesn't smell like… you," he pleaded.

I rolled my eyes and unlocked the doors. The instant the locks popped up, Daryl ran out of my car and into his house, leaving both the car door and his front door wide open. And I was dramatic?

After I walked into Daryl's house, I started to make a beeline for Nugget, but Daryl stopped me with an "Uh uh."

"Change into that shirt," he said, looking at Rick's shirt in my hand, "and throw the one you're wearin' in the washin' machine. Then you can see your Nugget."

I couldn't argue with him for not wanting me to walk through his house or to be near Nugget wearing this top. The vomit smelled bad.

 _Really_ bad.

But I gave him an eye roll anyways before speedily walking to his guest bathroom.

I didn't want to see the stain again and didn't need to see the toll that being at Rick's house had taken on me, so I very carefully pulled off my pajama top with my back turned to the vanity mirror. After I folded the top and placed it on the floor, I held up the shirt Rick had given me. There was nothing notable about the plain black tee at all… except for how much it smelled like Rick.

It smelled so much like him that it almost felt obscene when I pulled the shirt down over my bare upper body. It was as if Rick himself was caressing and then wrapping himself around me.

I wrapped my arms around myself and deeply inhaled his scent.

"'Chonne!" Daryl shouted, pounding on the door and startling me out of my self-embrace. "You ok in there?"

 _Get it together, Michonne._

"I'm fine!" I shouted as I picked up my top from the floor.

I opened the door and Daryl looked at me suspiciously. "What were you doin' in here?" he asked, pushing me aside and looking around the bathroom.

"Minding my business," I retorted. "What do you want? I have a baby to see."

"Rude," he mumbled under his breath. "I found these," he said to me, holding up a pair of slippers. "Not sure if they're yours or Maggie's, but Rick said you needed shoes, so here you go."

Because Rick, Daryl, Gleggie, and I were always at each other's places, we often left random things behind. The fuzzy pink slippers Daryl held up were Maggie's, but I knew she wouldn't care if I wore them.

I let out two very blissful sighs after I slid one foot and then the other into the plushness of the slippers. If I ever found myself in another Beat A Bitch's Ass situation, I would remember to wear shoes.

"Thanks, D," I smiled, placing my pajama top in his hand.

Before he could complain about it, I speedily walked to the spare room he'd converted into a nursery when Rick was depressed.

"Rude," I heard him grumble.

It was, but I wanted to see my baby.

And when I saw his sleeping, chubby cheeked-face and breathed in _his_ powder fresh scent, I was almost paralyzed by my joy. I didn't want to wake him—and I knew that's what I was risking if I picked him up, but I desperately needed a cuddle.

"Hey, Nugget," I whispered, lifting him from his crib.

He continued to sleep after I cradled him in my arms and gave him two soft kisses on his forehead: one from me and one from his dadu.

"I love you, son," I whispered, smoothing his wild bedhead hair down.

My son.

Always.

No matter what.

I froze when Nugget's eyes started to flutter and then opened.

I silently squealed when he gave me the most brilliant little half smile.

I let out a quiet sigh of relief when he closed his eyes again.

He truly had the face of an angel… so perfect, so precious, so-

His little brow furrowed.

 _Uh oh._

His little lips pouted.

 _Oh no._

His little face scrunched up.

 _Shit!_

I quickly placed him back in his crib. As much as I wanted to hold him, I knew the signs of a tantrum in the making. I was in no condition to deal with the cranky that came from prematurely waking him up, although I would if I had to.

It didn't look like I was going to have to when his prickly expression softened into a soundly sleeping one. He really, truly did have the face of an angel… so perfect, so precious, so magnificent.

I fought the urge to rub his tummy and walked over to the rocking chair in the corner of the room. Mr. Puff, Nugget's stuffed penguin, was sitting in it, so I picked him up and hugged him to my chest before I sat down. I settled into the chair and watched my son sleep, letting the love I felt for him suture the break in my heart.

I could've sat in that chair for hours while he slept, but when the urge to pick him struck again, I decided to leave the nursery and find Daryl.

"Everythang ok with Little Asskicker?" he asked after I found him in the kitchen.

"Yeah. My son," I said, trying the word out with him, "is still sleeping."

"That's surprisin'. I thought for sure you'd wake him up," he commented, opening his refrigerator. "What do you feel like eatin'? A meatball sub or a roast beef with cheese sub?"

I stared at Daryl as he rifled through his refrigerator.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" I asked.

He looked at me over his shoulder with a blank look on his face.

"I just referred to Nugget as my _son_."

"Yeah, I heard that. And?" he asked slowly.

 _And?_

I wasn't expecting confetti and cartwheels, but I thought I'd get more than an underwhelming response of "And?" from him.

"He's your son, 'Chonne. What else would you call him?" he asked, turning his attention back to the inside of his refrigerator. "So what's it gonna be? A meatball sub or a roast beef with cheese?"

"I'm not hungry," I said wistfully, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

"Doesn't matter. You're eatin' somethin'. Rick was very... insistent, we'll say, that you be clothed and fed. I don't wanna deal with his head tiltin', eye squintin' ass if you don't eat."

"That sounds like a personal problem, Daryl. Like I said, I'm not hungry."

"And like I said, that doesn't matter. Eat," he ordered, sliding a plate with a 6-inch roast beef and cheese sub on it to me.

I rolled my eyes but picked up the sandwich.

He placed the baby monitor and a bottle of water next to my plate. "After you eat, we talk."

I rolled my eyes again but bit into my sandwich.

While I was chewing, Daryl's phone started ringing. Except for Maggie's "Roar" ring tone, which she programmed in Daryl's phone against his will, Daryl didn't have ring tones assigned to anyone, but I knew that was Rick calling.

Daryl looked down at his phone and then at me. "I'll be back," he said, stepping out of the kitchen to answer it.

 _Rude._

I took another bite of my sandwich and eavesdropped from where I was sitting. The only thing I could make out before I heard Daryl heading back to the kitchen was him saying something about a flathead screwdriver.

He sat down next to me in a huff, but I paid him no mind. Whatever was happening in the Grimes household was not my concern. I finished eating my sandwich and drank my water.

"That ain't Rick's kid," Daryl grumbled, taking my plate from me when I was done eating and putting in the sink.

I ignored him.

"Thanks for the sandwich and the water, D."

I really did feel much, much better with something on my stomach. If I ever found myself in another Beat A Bitch's Ass situation, I would remember to eat a proper meal beforehand.

"You know that's not his kid, 'Chonne," Daryl grumbled again, sitting down next to me.

"I don't want to talk about it, Daryl."

"Yeah, you do," he scoffed.

"No, I don't," I maintained, turning towards him. "And of course that baby is Rick's! Her timeline adds up. Rick confirmed the haircut."

"The what?" Daryl asked.

"The baby making act," I clarified.

Daryl shook his head. "Nah, uh uh. Not his kid."

"You make a very compelling 'nah, uh uh' argument, Daryl, but do you care to elaborate?"

"Just doesn't make sense to me," he said. "Why would she disappear the day she found out she was pregnant? She knows Rick woulda been nuthin' but happy about that. Shit would be harder for them with two kids back-to-back, but they coulda handled it. And why would she choose to pop up on Little Asskicker's birthday? And only after that prick Panty Man tracked her ass down?"

Daryl's questions were valid, and the explanation Lori had thus far provided regarding her disappearance was sketchy at best, but if Daryl was right, that meant one of two things: either Lori had kidnapped a child or she had cheated on Rick. She was stupid and evil, but I didn't believe she was so stupid that she'd commit a felony or that she was so evil that she'd cheat on Rick and pass another man's child off as his, especially after their fertility issues.

No, that baby was Rick's.

"Why are you so certain that kid is his?" Daryl asked.

"Because," I answered.

"Do you care to elaborate on that?" he sassed.

"No."

I didn't want to talk about that baby anymore. I couldn't. My heart was starting to hurt again.

"And since when do you take anythang Lori says at face value?" Daryl asked. "Bitches still be crazy, right?"

"Yes, D, of course," I agreed, offended that he would think I thought otherwise. "Bitches still be crazy. So crazy, in fact, that all these years later she blames me for ruining her prom night and her wedding. As if I had control over either of those things."

Daryl gave me a look.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"Michonne, your best man suit was tight as hell."

"It wasn't _that_ tight," I argued.

But it was that tight.

"Everyone was starin' at your ass. Not at the blushin' bride in her big ass dress, but at your ass," he said. "You know how many assholes I had to tell to look the other way?"

I shrugged. Lori brought that on herself.

She'd deemed the very tasteful, very conservative black dress I'd wanted to wear as "incompatible with the style and tone of the wedding." It was her wedding day, so I accepted her disapproval with only the tiniest of an eye twitch.

Two weeks later, after rejecting every dress option that I presented to her, she presented me with a very unflattering, unfeminine five-piece pant suit to wear. That suit made both of my eyes twitch, but it was her wedding day, so I agreed to wear it. I would've worn it as it was if not for the smirk I saw her exchange with one of her bridesmaids after I tried the suit on.

Because of that smirk, I decided I was going to wear the hell out of that suit. Luckily, I had a designer friend in Atlanta who was able to work miracles. I got rid of the jacket and the vest, I kept and wore the tie, the long-sleeved shirt was transformed into a sleeveless halter top, and the pants were altered to fit like a second skin.

"If you had just served as best man, my outfit would never have been a problem," I pointed out.

He gave me another look.

"Fine, Daryl, but I can honestly say I had nothing to do with ruining her prom night. Me being crowned prom queen was the result of how our peers voted. How would I have even rigged that?"

After Daryl's eyes shifted, mine widened in shock.

"I may have had somethin' to do with that," he revealed. "You were popular, 'Chonne, but after all the votes were counted, you came in third."

 _Third?!_

"Lori had the numbers, she won the vote," he admitted. "It was only because no one wanted to deal with a Lori meltdown, but she still won."

 _Third?!_

"How did I go from coming in _third_ to being crowned prom queen?" I asked.

"You remember Anne from Art Club? She used to hang out with Tami L. and Brian from Drama Club," he said.

"Who could forget Anne?" I laughed, remembering the girl with the bowl cut in the front, mullet in the back hairstyle. "She got suspended for making that ass sculpture, didn't she?"

"That's her," he said, his cheeks turning pink. "She was in charge of countin' votes. I made a deal with her."

"What kind of a deal, D?"

He started to turn red, and my eyes widened in shock again.

"No!" I squealed.

His eyes shifted.

"No!" I squealed again. "One of those asses was not yours!"

Anne had created a 6-foot tall totem pole of asses using the ceramic molds of four bare asses. The entire school knew that one ass was Anne's, one ass was Tami L.'s, and one ass was Brian's. No one ever knew who the fourth ass belonged to. Until now.

I covered my hand with my mouth and laughed into it until my stomach hurt and I couldn't breathe. After I wiped the tears from my eyes, I looked at Daryl, who was giving me an unimpressed look.

"But why, D? Why give up your ass for me?" I asked with a gleeful smile.

"Couldn't stand Lori's ass," he said without apology. "Rick was gonna win prom king—there was no contest there, and I knew the only thang that would piss Lori off more than losin', would be losin' to you. And I was right. Twenty years later, she's still pissed off about it," he laughed.

Daryl never told me the awful thing that Lori did or said to him to make him detest her so much, but that fire of hatred had burned for over twenty years. That bitch would forever be crazy to him… to us both.

"You're ridiculous," I said, laughing with him. "I can't wait to tell Ri..."

My laughter and Rick's name died on my lips. He and I probably wouldn't be laughing together any time soon.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose and breathed through the ache in my heart.

"Michonne, if Rick says he's gonna handle Lori, then he's gonna handle Lori."

"I'm sure he will," I said with no confidence whatsoever.

Daryl narrowed his eyes and stared at me.

"Do you know what the three most popular types of gold are?" he asked.

 _Huh?_

"What?" I asked, confused by a question that I was in no way expecting.

"The most popular types of gold… do you know what they are?"

I stared at him, no less confused than the first time he asked.

"Cuz I do," he said. "White gold, yellow gold, and rose gold."

"Ooo-kay," I said slowly.

"Do you know what the difference between 24-karat and 10-karat gold is?" he asked.

I stared at him, still confused as to why he was asking me about gold.

"Cuz I do. It has to do with the purity of the gold. The higher the karat, the more pure the gold," he said.

"Ooo-kay," I said slowly.

"If there were four chains in front of you, would you know which was the snake chain, which was the rope chain, which was the curb chain, and which was the spiga chain?"

"No, Daryl," I sighed out, "but let me guess… you would know."

"Damn straight I'd know!" he said. "And how about clasps? You wanna talk clasps, Michonne?"

"No, D. I really don't," I told him.

"You wanna know how I know all that shit?"

I honestly did, but he didn't give me a chance to tell him before he started talking again.

"About three weeks ago, Rick and I spent all day in Atlanta because he wanted to find the perfect necklace for you… so that he could thank you... for bein' you. We went to five different jewelry stores and looked at every... goddamn... necklace, only to go back to the very first store to get what's hangin' around your neck right now."

"What?" I breathed out, grabbing the M charm on my necklace.

"At first I thought it was because of what he said—showin' his appreciation for you. But after we left the third store, I realized it musta been somethin' else. You know how Rick is, he didn't realize shit at the time. When I saw you and him by that tree at Hershel's though, I knew he finally realized it, too."

My heart was pounding hard in my chest.

"I know you're upset right now and that you're thinkin' the worst, but you gotta trust in Rick, Michonne. He's not the same person he was a year ago. You have shit you're dealin' with but so does he, in addition to dealin' with you goin' rogue and murderin' that SUV, and you passin' out, and findin' out he may be a dad to a 6-month old he never knew about. So maybe give him a chance to show you who he is before you shut him down," he said. "And you? You gotta find a way to get past whatever you're feelin' right now and figure out what you want, cuz it didn't look like Rick was the only one makin' googly eyes."

"I wasn't-"

"Figure that shit out and go after what you want," he interrupted. "Audentes fortuna iuvat."

My Latin was a little rusty, but I remembered enough to know what that meant.

"' _Fortune favors the bold.'_ I didn't know you knew Latin, Daryl."

"I don't," he said with a wink. "Rosita has a tattoo of it on her-"

"Too much information," I interrupted with an eye roll.

But since he brought her up, it seemed like the perfect time to discuss why he brought that fucking nightmare into my home.

I narrowed my eyes.

Daryl groaned.

"Before you get started—yes, I ended it with Rosita; no, I didn't know she walked around with a taser in her purse; and yes, I will replace the Big Kat she ate, so I don't even wanna hear about it."

"All I know is she better not turn up nine months from now with a grunting bundle of joy in her arms," I warned. "I will sell everything I own, change my identity, and live my life as an expat in another country if I have to deal with anymore baby or baby mama drama."

Daryl grunted. "I'm not a heathen like you, Gleggie, and Rick," he said. "Still savin' it 'til marriage."

"You better be. And I want five Big Kats," I demanded.

"Five it is," he agreed. "But..."

"But what, D?" I asked in exasperation, ready to move on from talking about Rosita.

"But she did taze the hell out of Panty Man," he smiled.

I sighed.

Rosita Espinosa would never be my cup of tea, but she did taze the hell out of Panty Man. I had to give her that.

* * *

I left Daryl's house a little after 6AM and sat in my car, which was still parked outside of his house. One thought was running through my mind.

 _Audentes fortuna iuvat._

I could be bold and drive back to the house Rick insisted was my home, or I could drive away.

My fingers tapped nervously on my steering wheel.

I looked at Rick's house in my rearview mirror.

Being bold was not something I typically struggled with, but Rick had been alone with Lori for over an hour and all of the outdoor house lights were now turned off. I didn't know what that meant, but I knew what I feared it meant, and that was enough for me to make a decision.

My eyes shifted from looking in the rearview mirror to looking out the windshield.

I chose to drive away.

I drove aimlessly for about half an hour until I came across the exit for Lake Chambler. The lake had been a staple in my childhood, serving as the go-to site for family outings, lazy summer days, and late night high school makeout sessions. Except for a few vehicles that were already parked, probably belonging to early morning fishers, I was alone.

After how tumultuous the past 24 hours had been, I appreciated the solitude.

Maggie would torture me for days and then kill me if I walked out to the pier in her slippers, so I sat on the hood of my car and looked out at the lake. I'd missed the sun rising while I was driving, but its shine was kissing the surface of the water and creating a lovely shimmer. It was the perfect scenery for pondering.

It had been a quite some time since I'd been here to ponder. The last time I'd felt the need to do so was a few years after graduating from law school. I was here for a weeklong summer visit from Atlanta, which was where I attended law school and where I remained after I was offered a job at a fairly prestigious firm. I enjoyed my Atlanta life—I liked my job, I liked my condo, I liked my social life, but _like_ never turned into love. After three years of law school and three years as a working professional in Atlanta, the city never felt like home.

The day I was scheduled to return to Atlanta, I made a detour to the lake to ponder what I wanted my future to look like. On that sunny morning, I decided that my future looked like King County. Eight months later, when my lease was up and I'd secured a position with my current firm, I returned home.

And so here I was, once again pondering what I wanted my future to look like. Except I didn't truly need to ponder anything.

I knew what I wanted.

I knew that I only saw a future with Rick and Nugget.

I spent an hour or so on the hood of my car thinking about that future before I started giggling over Daryl's ass on that totem pole. I knew my mind was throwing in the towel on pondering and that it was time for me to go home.

I was physically and emotionally exhausted after I pulled into my condo's parking garage. I tiredly plodded to my condo, and with the little energy I had, I wondered about Rick.

I wondered if he was just as tired as I was. I wondered if he remembered to take today off. I wondered what kind of understanding he had come to with Lori. I wondered if that understanding had led to something more.

It had been a long time since Rick last had a haircut, so it was entirely possible that at this very moment he was naked and sweaty and-

 _Oh._

I stopped walking.

My breath caught in my throat.

A very weary pair of heavenly sky blue eyes was looking up at me.

"Hey," Rick whispered.

"Hey," I whispered.

He was sitting on the floor outside of my condo with his legs stretched out and the back of his head resting against the wall. A small smile curled the corners of his mouth up when I took a hesitant step towards him.

"You're here," I said, stunned that I was seeing him.

"I am," he said, slightly tilting his head and giving me a "where else would I be?" look.

"How?" I asked, though I really wanted to ask why.

"Borrowed Daryl's motorcycle."

I took one more step towards him, stopping next to his outstretched legs. "You could've used your key. Waited inside."

He slowly looked me up and down and shrugged. "I guess I wanted to see you as soon as I could see you."

Heat spread across my face.

Those damn butterflies were back.

 _Not the time, Michonne._

I didn't want Rick to see the effect he was having on me, so I thrust my hand out to help him up as a distraction. He looked at it and then looked back up at me.

"Sit with me?" he asked softly. "These past few hours… hell, these past 24 hours have been… a lot. I just wanna turn my brain off and sit with my best friend. Just for a few minutes."

I lowered my hand.

"Will you sit with me?" he asked again, holding his hand out to me.

The only thing I'd wanted to do prior to seeing Rick was crawl into my bed and sleep the rest of the day away, but I couldn't not get down on the ground next to him.

So I took his hand.

Because I needed to turn my brain off and sit with my best friend, too.

I stretched my legs out next to his and rested my head on his shoulder, leaving no space between us. Rick rested his chin on the top of my head and let out a tired sigh. After a few minutes of silence, I started fiddling with a loose thread hanging from the bottom of his shirt.

I slowly twisted the thread around my finger.

Being here with Rick, right now, dog-tired, emotionally drained, and sitting on the unforgivably hard ground, felt so… right. Nugget being here with us was the only thing that would have made what felt right feel perfect.

I slowly unwound the thread until my finger was free.

 _Shit._

We were supposed to be sitting here with our brains turned off. I needed to focus on not focusing, which was more challenging than I realized.

Thankfully, Rick's pocket started vibrating.

"That's probably gonna be Maggie," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out my phone. "She's been callin' you for the last hour."

I had six missed calls from her. She was now sending text message after text message. Because this was Maggie I was dealing with, I leaned away from Rick so he couldn't read whatever inappropriate thing she was probably texting.

 **Maggie:** _Why cant I reach u?_

 **Maggie:** _U_ _better be in jail for fckn up Olive Oyl_

 **Maggie:** _Or knocked out from fckn Rick_

 **Maggie:** _;)_

 **Maggie:** _Call me later slut!_

"Oh my God," I groaned.

"Do I wanna know?" Rick asked.

"No," I told him, locking my phone and setting it down.

"Gotta love Maggie," he laughed.

 _Damn._

That laugh.

That perfect smile.

Those perfect dimples.

 _Focus, Michonne._

"Gotta love Maggie," I smiled.

I was ready to try to turn my brain off again, but Rick was looking at me in a way that made it impossible.

"What?" I asked self-consciously.

He held his pinky up. "Make me a pinky promise."

"Like the pinky promise we made on Saturday? That we've already broken? I don't think so," I scoffed. "We may need to consider moving on to handshakes."

"Michooone," he whispered, wiggling his pinky.

"I don't think so, Rick," I said with faux disinterest.

"Michooooooone," he whispered, wiggling his pinky under my chin.

"Ok, ok! What?" I laughed, swatting his pinky away. "What's the promise?"

He smiled at me and his eyes seemed to sparkle.

"The promise is that we always do this, Michonne. We always make time to just be best friends with each other. No matter what," he said, looking at me earnestly.

I liked the sound of that, though the phrasing of "no matter what" seemed somewhat ominous.

"Deal," I said, wrapping my pinky around his.

We smiled at each other and rested our connected hands in my lap.

"I'm sorry for earlier, 'Chonne," he said in a solemn voice, squeezing my pinky. "I shoulda told you why you passed out. I shoulda stayed outta your way when you said you wanted to leave. I was just tryin' protect you and keep you safe, but I am sorry."

I squeezed his pinky in response, appreciating his apology and knowing I owed him one as well.

"I'm sorry, too," I said. "I'm sorry I shut down on you and tried to sneak out, and I'm so sorry for some of the things I said," I told him. "How about we blame all of it on a shitty situation, and we let it go?" I suggested.

"Yeah, I can do that," he said, smiling and bumping my shoulder with his.

I bumped his shoulder back and looked down at our intertwined pinkies.

"So," he sighed out, unhooking his pinky from mine and interlocking our fingers. "Let's talk about Lori and Judith."

* * *

When the tone of our conversation changed, Rick and I decided that a hard, uncomfortable floor was no place to have what was more than likely going to be a hard, uncomfortable conversation, so we moved the conversation to my dining room table.

"Motherfucker!" Rick angrily muttered when we saw the rose and vase that Mike had given me on Saturday.

Rick snatched the vase from the table and slammed it into the trash bin in the kitchen. Had I remembered it was sitting there, I would've done the same thing, but when we got back to my condo after being at Hershel's, I was focused on my Nugget and his owcies.

When Rick walked back to the table, he was noticeably calmer. He pulled a chair out for me to sit and then sat down in the chair across from me.

"Ok," I said, laying my hands flat on the table and steeling myself for this conversation. "I know what she wants, but what did she say?"

Before he could answer, I stood up from my chair and started pacing.

"She thinks his name is _Jr.,_ Rick. That's what she called him… _Jr._ ," I said with disdain.

Rick's face turned a shade of red and he started fidgeting his fingers. "Yeah, I know. I had to correct her," he said. "Twice."

 _Twice? That bitch!_

"She said it's hard not thinkin' of him as Jr. because of what we were supposed to name him," he told me. "I'd forgotten all about that 'til she mentioned it."

I stared at him, feeling myself starting to fume.

"You're defending her?" I asked. "Because I couldn't care less why she thinks Nugget's name should be Richard Arthur Grimes, Jr."

"I'm explainin' not defendin'," he said calmly.

"Did you _explain_ to her that I went through ten hours of contractions?"

"I did," he replied.

"Did you _explain_ to her that I spent an hour pushing Nugget out?"

"I did," he replied.

"Did you _explain_ to her that since neither of you had the decency to show up during the eleven very painful, very stressful, very terrifying hours it took to bring him into this world, I earned the right to name him?" I asked.

"I did," he replied.

"His name has _never_ been an issue before, Rick!"

He stared at me for a beat before scooting his chair back and holding his hand out to me.

"Michonne, come here," he said softly.

I rolled my eyes but took his hand and allowed him to pull me into his lap. I sat stiffly against him with my arms crossed.

He wrapped his arms around my crossed arms and rested his chin on my shoulder.

"Carl's name isn't an issue," he said. "I'm not questionin' or doubtin' what you named him, Michonne. I fell in love with his name the second you introduced me to him… even the Glendrick part of it."

I stifled a groan. I'd never admit it to anyone ever, but Glendrick was a hideous name. I had no idea what I was thinking when I thought that was a good idea.

I relaxed against Rick and he tightened his arms around me.

"What did she say, Rick?" I asked, resting the side of my face against his.

"After you left, I got Lori to come out to the front room," he said quietly. "I tried to ask her about her pregnancy and why she left King County and where she's been, but she'd cut me off or just not give me a straight answer. She kept tryin' to make me read her medical records to prove she was pregnant and that Judith was ours. After goin' around in circles, I told her that me and her were done, but I would take care of Judith if she was mine. She didn't take that well. She started screamin' and cryin' and carryin' on, and then she ran to my bedroom and locked herself in there with Judith."

 _Of fucking course she did._

"She refused to come out, so I had to walk away to calm myself down. When I was in the livin' room, I saw the file with her medical records. It looked legit, Michonne. She was in Florida, she was pregnant, she was put on bed rest because it was high-risk, and she had a baby six months after Carl was born."

"How-" I started to ask.

"I don't know. I don't know how it's possible that she got pregnant. Maybe we can talk to Dr. Cloyd and she can explain it to us."

He hugged me just a little tighter.

"Since she wasn't there to stop me or get in my way, I took her stuff out to the curb," he told me. "Her shit's no longer litterin' your front room."

 _Thank God._

He would still need to contact a cleaning service to deep clean my house though.

"She was still refusin' to come outta my room, but I'd had enough by then. I didn't wanna kick the door down, so I called Daryl to ask how to unlock it. When I finally got it open, Lori ran to the bathroom and locked herself in there. She said she'd come out if I promised to hear her out, so I told her I would just so she'd come out," he said.

His arms tightened around me in what felt like a restraining way.

"She wants me to sell the house and move to Florida."

I tensed up.

"She wants us to get marriage counselin' and work on bein' a family out there," he said.

I took a deep breath and adjusted myself in Rick's lap so that I was sitting up straight.

"Are you telling me… that she wants you… to give up your home… your job... your family... your friends... to move to _Florida_ … to be with her?" I asked slowly.

 _Breathe, Michonne._

"She wants you... to take Nugget away from me… to be with her?"

"No, Michonne," he said quietly. "She wants me to move. _Just_ me."

 _She…_

…

…

…

"She WHAT?!" I shouted. "What the fuck does that mean, Rick?! There is no _just_ you! What does she mean?"

I started struggling against him to get out of his lap but he just held me tighter.

"She can't possibly mean that she doesn't want Nugget! She can't possibly be suggesting that you abandon Nugget!"

I'd never been so livid in my life!

"She doesn't want my baby?!" I asked in confused outrage. "She doesn't want my Nugget?! She doesn't want _you_ to be with Nugget?!"

Rick held me even tighter and in a pained voice said, "She doesn't."

His words sliced through my heart.

"She..." my words got stuck in my throat as I choked on the pain of her rejection of Nugget. "She doesn't want Nugget in your lives? She wants you to neglect him? To pretend that he doesn't exist?"

The thought of her having such little regard for my baby gutted me.

"She doesn't get to reject him, Rick! _We_ reject her!" I angrily shouted. " _She's_ not good enough for him! _She_ doesn't deserve him!"

I could barely breathe; I was fighting for each next breath.

I should have been fighting my way out of Rick's lap. I should have been deciding whether to use my bare hands to murder Lori or to get my katana out of storage to use that to bring her to an end. But I couldn't move. I couldn't think of anything except for my Nugget.

"She hates my baby that much?" I asked as my tears started to fall. "Rick, how could she hate him that much?" I whispered through shallow breaths. "How could she not… He's the most amazing… He's so..." I sputtered, unable to comprehend her cruelty.

Rick's forehead pressed against the back of my head and I felt his hot tears rolling down my neck.

"I don't know, Michonne," he whispered behind me.

The pain in his voice nearly broke me.

"How do we tell him, Rick? How do we tell him that she never loved him or wanted him? That she doesn't want him to be a part of her family? How do we do that, Rick?"

Rick stood us up and I turned into him, wrapping my arms around him. I sobbed for my son because I didn't know how to stop this from hurting him one day.

"Michonne," Rick said, pulling away from me to cup my face. "Carl will never feel unloved."

I looked into his teary eyes and nodded.

"He won't," I promised, bringing my hands to his face to wipe away his tears.

"He will never feel unwanted," he said, wiping away my tears with his thumbs.

"He won't," I promised.

"He's ours. He's our son. He'll never know differently," he said, resting his forehead against mine.

"He's ours," I repeated.

We stood together for I don't know how long, forehead to forehead and with our arms wrapped around each other until I moved my head to his shoulder and brought my hand up to his curls.

"This is the last time she affects us like this, Michonne," Rick said in a steady voice. "No more tears over her bullshit. No more fightin'. No more of her comin' between us."

I nodded my head on his shoulder, running my fingers through his curls.

"Once I get back home, I'm gonna call a locksmith to get all the locks changed," he said. "Daryl has a divorce attorney contact I'll reach out to, and I'll also call the hospital to set up DNA testin'."

I nodded my head on his shoulder, starting to feel both present and so far away.

"Judith is… she's with Daryl," Rick said.

I stiffened in his arms but kept running my hand through his curls, enjoying the calm that the act brought me.

"I don't know if she's mine, Michonne, but even if she's not, it didn't feel right leavin' her with Lori after I kicked her out."

I relaxed in his arms and closed my eyes. He was right. No child was safe with that monster. I couldn't fault him for putting the best interest of a child first, especially if that baby… if Judith... was his.

 _If Judith was his._

I latched on to that idea, barely listening to Rick as he continued talking.

"But I really don't think Judith..." he was saying.

If she was his child, Rick would fight for full custody.

"… her hair is so..."

And he would get it. I would do what was necessary to make sure he got full custody, although I doubted it would come down to me having to interfere.

"...they're brown..."

We would have a one-year-old and a six-month old who were biologically siblings.

"She looks nuthin' like..."

But I didn't know if I could look at her in the same way that I looked at Nugget. I didn't know if I'd be able to… or if I even wanted to.

"Michonne?"

And that scared me.

"Michonne?"

Because that made me just like Lori.

"Michonne!"

I dropped my hand from his hair and looked up at him.

"You ok?" he asked.

I took a small step away from him.

 _No._

"Everything is just… I'm tired, Rick. I'm really tired. I just need a minute."

He looked at me in understanding but didn't say anything or make any moves to leave. After about of minute of standing there, his lips started moving.

"Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty," he counted. "It's been a minute. Are you ok now?"

"Riiiiiick," I sighed out, unable to keep myself from smiling at how ridiculous he could be. "I need a longer minute. Alone."

"I know," he said softly, his blue eyes taking in my face, "but I can stay. Keep you company until you fall asleep."

I gave him a small smile but shook my head. "You have things to take care of, Rick. And you left Daryl with two babies," I reminded him. "You should get back sooner rather than later."

"Yeeeaaahhhh," he drawled. "He's probably ready to put me in another chokehold."

"You know he is," I told him.

He smiled at me and then pulled me into a hug. "Get your rest and call me when you wake up. I don't care what time it is," he whispered into my ear.

"I'll call," I told him, pulling away from him.

He nodded but stayed where he was. "You need help gettin' to bed before I go?"

I almost laughed. "Your arms of steel are not needed at this time, sir. I'm ok to walk."

"Had to ask," he said, grinning.

We stood there staring at each other.

"So... I guess I'll go and give you your minute," he said. "I'll see myself out, ok?"

"Ok, Rick," I whispered.

I could see that he wanted to say something else, but he gave me a tender kiss on the side of my forehead. He took a few steps towards the door, then stopped, took another step, then stopped, and then walked back over to me. When he was standing in front of me, he gently cupped the sides of my neck.

"Don't disappear on me, Michonne," he said with a fiery look in his eyes. "I know you're dealin' with a lot, but please believe me when I tell you I got this. I'm gonna make sure Lori isn't a problem for Carl, for you, for us, or for Judith."

I stared into his eyes, feeling energized by his every word.

"And when Lori's no longer a problem, you and me have unfinished business we need to take care of."

"We do?" I breathed out.

"We do. You and me are gonna talk, Michonne," he said as his thumb gently traced the underside of my bottom lip.

"W-we are?"

"We are," he said, staring at my lips. "You're gonna tell me what you were gonna say when Morales walked in and interrupted us. You're gonna tell me what you were thinkin' about when you were lickin' your lips and starin' at me in the kitchen. And then," he said, staring into my eyes with a look that made heat spread, butterflies flutter, and my heart race all at the same time, "you're gonna tell me how long you've loved my face."

I gasped.

How did he know what I'd been thinking?

"You said it out loud, 'Chonne. You said you really, really love my face," he whispered, gliding his thumb across both my top and bottom lips and then sliding it down my chin.

He stepped closer to me, invading all of my personal space. "Don't disappear."

Then he dropped his hands and walked out of my condo without looking back.

I brought my fingers to my lips, feeling the scorch left behind from his thumb rubbing over them.

My chest was heaving.

I had to lean against the couch to support my weakened knees.

 _Hot fucking damn!_

* * *

 _ **Rick threw Lori out of the house and she landed on her ass in the driveway.**_

" _ **Bony ass bitch!" Rick grumbled as he closed the door and locked it.**_

 _ **I threw my head back and laughed and then took a sip of my champagne.**_

" _ **Mmmmm," I moaned. "Is this Dom?"**_

" _ **Seemed fittin' for the occasion, don't you think?" he asked, clinking his glass to mine.**_

 _ **Rick swallowed his champagne in one gulp, hungrily eyeing me as he did.**_

 _ **I took a demure sip of mine, trying not to melt from the blaze of his gaze traveling up and down and around my body.**_

 _ **A tortured look fixed itself to Rick's face, and without warning he hurled his glass across the room.**_

 _ **I jumped at the sound of it shattering against the wall.**_

" _ **Rick!" I gasped.**_

 _ **He took my glass from my hand and slammed it down.**_

" _ **I need you, Michonne. Now!" he growled, pushing me against the front door.**_

 _ **My back landed against it with a hard thud.**_

" _ **Can I have you?" he begged, his lips brushing against mine, his body pressing into mine. "Michonne," he breathed out, ragged and desperate. "I need to touch you. I need to taste you. I need to fu-"**_

Doo-dee-doo-doo doo-dee-doo-doo doo-dee-doo-doo-doo…

Doo-dee-doo-doo doo-dee-doo-doo doo-dee-doo-doo-doo…

Doo-dee-doo-doo doo-dee-doo-doo doo-dee-

"What!" I unpleasantly growled into my phone with my eyes closed, my head still on my pillow, and sleep thick in my voice.

I didn't care about pleasantries. I already despised whoever was calling me for waking me up and interrupting the best dream of my life.

"Good afternoon," the voice on the other end replied. "My apologies for disturbin' you, ma'am, but I am tryin' to reach a Miss Michonne Danvers."

My eyes popped open.

I didn't recognize the voice, but there was an air of authority to it that put me on edge. I looked at my cell phone to see who was calling, but the number was showing as Unknown. I briefly wondered if I had been sloppy in how I was proceeding with my revenge on Panty Man and if I needed to contact my attorney.

I cleared my throat. "This is Michonne Danvers," I said cautiously.

"It's her!" I heard the caller whisper away from the phone.

"'Chonne, hey—hi! This is Shane. Shane Walsh!" he said, now speaking both rapidly and excitedly. "I don't know if you remember me, and I'm sorry to be callin' you outta the blue like this, but I'm hopin' you can help me out… I'm lookin' for Lori Grimes… and my baby girl... Judy."

* * *

 **A/N: A quick reminder that Shane was briefly mentioned in chapter 9. He was Rick's training partner when Rick enrolled in the Academy.**

 **Thank you for reading! Reviews are always appreciated!**

 **Happy Holidays!**


	21. A Family Affair (part 1)

**A/N:** The goal was to get chapter 21 out on New Year's Eve... I kind of dropped the ball on that, but Happy New Year all the same! :) This chapter was out of control long, so I broke it up. I'm almost done editing the second half of it.

Thank you for sticking with this story and for being patient with me! I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 21: A Family Affair (part 1)**

 _Nope._

After the call with Shane ended, I turned my phone on silent and pulled my covers over my head. My mind was still reeling from how fucked up everything was before Shane's call; there was no way in hell I was about to focus on how astronomically fucked up things had just become.

What I was going to do was go back to sleep.

I grunted, rolled onto my stomach, settled into my pillow, and closed my eyes. And until sleep claimed me, I was only allowing thoughts about a certain blue-eyed person to fill my mind.

 _Rick._

His name alone put a smile on my face. Thinking about what'd he done before he walked out of my condo easily stretched that smile into a grin.

He had so brazenly used that thumb of his to commandingly caress my lips…

He had so confidently declared that we had unfinished business…

He had so unashamedly used his eyes to devour every part of me that they took in.

Rick had never touched me like that. Rick had never spoken to me like that. Rick had never looked at me like that. It was all so unexpected, but I loved every second of it! And best of all, everything about him—his touch, his voice, his eyes—told me the same thing…

He didn't want to get off the pot.

 _He_ wanted _me_ as much as I wanted him!

Embracing my inner teenage girl with a crush, I giggled into my pillow and did a happy dance before rolling over onto my side. I looked at the side of the bed Rick slept on last night and my smile fell just a fraction. Rick's arm was wrapped around me when I woke up next to him, but I'd been too consumed by my Fucking Lori Grimes rage to appreciate waking up to his warmth.

I vowed never to make that mistake again.

I reached for the pillow Rick slept on and hugged it to my chest. When I inhaled his scent, my mind took me back to his thumb rubbing across and down my lips. Rick had no idea how close I'd come to sucking that thumb of his into my mouth. He had no idea that after he left, it had taken a 20-minute shower for me to ease the ache he stirred within me.

I squeezed the pillow tighter and let out a frustrated sigh. If I kept thinking about Rick, I would have to take another shower.

But I really needed to sleep.

Because Shane would be in King County tomorrow morning. And with things now astronomically fucked up, I needed to be as rested as possible before talking to Rick later this evening.

I groaned and rolled onto my back with my arms still wrapped around his pillow. Begrudgingly, I redirected my thoughts from Rick to Lake Chambler, letting the still peacefulness of its dark blue waters guide me to my slumber.

Ten minutes later, I was still wide awake.

It was the lake's fault.

The lake made me think about the way the sun was shining on it. The way the sun was shining made me think about the magnificent sky the sun was shining in. The magnificent sky made me think about Rick's heavenly sky blues.

I smiled and let out a content sigh.

I really, really loved that face.

Eventually, drowsiness forced all thoughts from my mind completely. The last one I had before sleep overtook me was the hope that I'd return to the dream version of Rick ravishing the dream version of me against the dream version of our front door.

* * *

I woke up annoyed AF.

My mind had not taken me back to the dream version of Rick ravishing the dream version of me against the dream version of our front door. I hadn't dreamed of anything at all. I felt rested though, so I guess there was that.

I grunted and looked at the clock on the nightstand.

5:09PM.

I'd slept about three and a half hours before my sleep was interrupted by the phone call and slept another three and a half hours or so after the interruption. If circumstances were different, I would've slept another six or seven hours before getting out of bed, but I needed to talk to Rick about Shane.

 _That Piece of Shit Shane._

I sat up and stretched, wincing from the soreness in my arms.

I hadn't seen him in a good 15 years. We'd gone out on one date that was memorable for all the wrong reasons after I caught him having sex with his ex-girlfriend in my apartment bathroom. A few months later, he failed out of the Academy and left King County. He had, presumably, returned to his neighboring hometown of Bibb County.

I wasn't surprised by Shane's failure. He was too intense, too obnoxious, and too much of an asshole to excel in a program that called for so much self-discipline and focus.

I called Rick the day after my memorable for all the wrong reasons date to let him know that Shane Walsh was dead to me and that I didn't trust him as his training partner or as future officer of the law. About a month after I expressed my concerns, Rick told me that Lori had started expressing concerns about him as well.

Hindsight being what it is, her concerns were probably nothing more than a cover to hide the relationship she and Shane had developed.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

 _That Piece of Shit Shane._

I only observed those two interacting once but thought nothing of the way in which they interacted. Had I unwittingly watched the birth of their betrayal and mistaken it for friendly banter? Had Rick and I missed something that was right in front of our faces?

* * *

First date with That Piece of Shit Shane about 15 years ago

Shit.

 _I was late._

 _My tires screeched as I swung my car into the King County Caf_ _ _é parking lot and screeched again when I pulled into the space next to Rick's beat up old truck. I threw my keys in my purse and was reaching for the door handle when I remembered my lips.__

Shit!

 _ _My lips were already colored a pretty shade of purple from my black cherry lipstick, but my look was not complete if my lips did not pop. I found my trusted MAC Lipglass at the bottom of my purse and used my rearview mirror to apply the clear gloss. Once I was happy with the amount of shine on my lips, I smiled at my reflection.__

 _ _I was late, but I looked good.__

 _ _I rushed into the restaurant and scanned it for Rick. When I saw the back of his head and the handsome face of his training partner sitting across from him, I carefully smoothed down my outfit and sauntered over to them as if I was fifteen minutes early.__

 _"_ _Hi, Rick! Sorry I'm late," I apologized when I made it to the small table for four. "I had a minor hangup."_

 _My lack of lip gloss was a minor hiccup. The minor hangup was that my closest friends were annoying boys who had no interest in my fashion dilemmas. Since I had no one to bounce first date outfit ideas off of, I went through five outfit changes before deciding to wear a jean skirt, a studded belt, a dark purple camisole under a brown leather vest, a multi-colored headband with mostly purple accents, large purple hoop earrings, and black, knee-high leather boots with 3-inch heels._

 _Rick stood and gave me a welcoming half-hug. "We only got here about ten minutes ago," he said after greeting me. "Daryl told me he tried to help with your hangup," he added with a smirk, lightly tugging on one of my shoulder-length locs._

 _I swatted at his hand and rolled my eyes. Daryl's help consisted of suggesting that I wear clean underwear and that I leave him alone._

 _I raised my eyebrows at Rick, telling him to introduce me to Shane already. I'd asked him weeks ago to introduce us._

" _Michonne, this is Shane," Rick said, nodding to the man who was now standing. "Shane, this is Michonne."_

 _The few times that I'd seen Shane had been at a distance. He was much more gorgeous in person. He had the most dazzling dark brown eyes, a slightly misshapen nose that was adorably cute in its misshapenness, and a plump bottom lip that I was already imagining between both of mine. His hair was shaved low on the sides but thicker on top with fluffy curls just starting to sprout. It didn't look like his curls would be as curly as Rick's, but no one's curls ever were._

 _Shane's body was a mouthwatering kind of amazing. The top four buttons of his short-sleeve black satin shirt were undone, giving me more than a peek at the muscles of his well-defined chest. And while his jeans were maybe a little too tight, I liked how his thick thighs strained against the material._

" _Well, well, well, ain't you just a slice of somethin' nice," Shane complimented, taking my hand and softly kissing the back of it. "Very pleased to meet you, beautiful."_

 _His intense eyes locked onto my face and I felt a small flutter in my stomach._

" _I'm happy to finally be meeting you," I said to him, putting an emphasis on "finally"._

 _I didn't have to look at Rick to know he was rolling his eyes._

" _I've seen_ _you around the Academy, haven't I?" Shane asked, still holding onto my hand as his eyes slid down my body. "Yeah, I have. Ain't no way I'd forget you," he said in a lower, deeper voice._

Damn.

" _You've probably seen me," I told him, playing it cool. "I used to go running with Rick first thing Sunday mornings."_

 _Because of my studies abroad, my runs with Rick had come to an end. Now that I was home, I wasn't sure if that was a routine we would resume. I hadn't brought it up yet because I was nowhere close to being able to run our eight-minute mile. I'd ingested carbs nonstop for the last six months in Italy, and I was still feeling the effects of that. I didn't know why Rick hadn't brought it up yet. He was probably running with Lori now._

" _And after we'd run, she'd make me sneak her into the dinin' hall," Rick said to Shane. "She'd eat her breakfast and then most of mine. Every time."_

Oh… my… God.

" _We'd run five miles, Rick. I'd be hungry after," I replied sweetly with a smile, although I was sure my eyes were shooting daggers at him for bringing up my eating habits._

" _Shoot! Ain't nuthin' wrong with a healthy appetite, Michonne! I, myself, am a man with the most voracious of appetites. I love to eat," he said with a wink."And_ _damn! If I'da known you were Ricky boy's lady friend, I'da asked for your number months ago," he grinned, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles._

 _Rick let out an almost inaudible unimpressed sigh. I ignored him._

" _It's not too late for you to ask for it," I said to Shane, looking him up and down._

" _Oh yeah?" he asked, pulling me closer to him. "If I ask real nice, you gonna give it to me, Michonne?"_

 _His brown eyes drilled into mine and his tongue slowly wet his bottom lip._

Damn!

 _When Rick cleared his throat, effectively ruining the moment, I wanted to strangle him. I almost did when out of the corner of my eye I saw him sit down. He was supposed to introduce me to Shane, then he was supposed to leave._

 _I threw a questioning look his way._

 _Rick dodged the look and started studying the King County_ _Caf_ _ _é__ _menu._

" _Lemme get your chair for you," Shane said before I could get Rick's attention and silently tell him to go._

" _Thank you, Shane," I smiled._

 _I grinned when he walked behind me and I heard the sharp intake of his breath. I had a feeling he was the type of guy who would enjoy a lack of panty lines, so I'd eliminated mine by wearing a thong._

" _Well godd_ _amn!" he belted out, causing a few heads to turn in our direction. "If I wasn't such a gentleman, I'd ask you if you sat in a pile'a sugar, girl!"_

" _Shane!" Rick said sharply, though he kept his eyes on the menu._

" _Unbunch those tighty whities, partner!" Shane playfully ordered as I sat down. "I said I'd ask if I wasn't such a gentleman. I'm on my best behavior tonight. Cross my heart."_

 _After Shane sat down in the chair to my right, Rick gave him a look that I couldn't quite make out._

" _You are one lucky sonuvabitch, you know that?" Shane asked with awe in his voice. "How the hell is a boy scout like you surrounded by such pretty ladies?"_

 _I sent another questioning look Rick's way. His eyes returned to his menu, like he didn't know he'd be ordering a rare steak with mashed potatoes and creamed corn. If he was staying, which he wasn't._

" _Speaking of..." Shane said. "Your numero uno has returned."_

His numero uno?

 _Rick and Shane rose from their seats._

 _My eyes nearly popped out of my head._

 _Not only was Lori walking to the table, but she was wearing one of her plaid, spaghetti strap dresses under a jean jacket. The plaid dress with jean jacket combo was her signature date night look._

What…

" _You boys don't have to make a fuss over me," she giggled, blushing from the attention._

The…

" _My daddy always said a man who doesn't make a fuss over a good steak, a good beer, or a good-lookin' lady ain't no kinda man at all_ _," Shane good-naturedly replied as Rick pulled out Lori's chair._

 _The chair that was directly across from me._

 _At this very, very small table._

Fuck?!

" _Your daddy sounds like a wise man," she laughed._

What the fuck?!

" _Thanks, baby," she said to Rick, giving him a warm smile after he pushed her chair in and kissed her cheek._

What the fuck?!

" _Hello, Michonne," she said to me in a flat voice._

What. The. Fuck?!

" _Lori," I said just as flatly._

 _I watched Rick sit down with his eyes glued to his menu._

 _Richard Arthur Grimes was so dead._

" _Feels like it's been forever since we last saw you," Lori commented, tucking her now curly hair behind her right ear… using her left hand._

 _Could she have made it any more obvious that she wanted me to see her engagement ring?_

That poodle perm-haired bitch!

" _Not since t_ _hat night you got back from Italy, isn't that right?" she asked._

" _That's right," I said with a tight smile._

" _Ooh-la-la! A well-traveled woman!" Shane exclaimed, oblivious to the tension building at the table. He leaned towards me, but I kept my eyes on Lori who kept her eyes on me. "Sounds like you're into explorin', Michonne. Discoverin' secret spots? Tryin' new thangs?"_

" _Shane!" Rick said sharply._

" _I can't help it, partner!"_ _Shane laughed. "_ _This girl's got the bark in me fightin' to come out!"_

" _Do not start barkin'," Rick warned him._

 _Shane laughed again. "You know me too well, partner!"_

 _Maybe in getting to know Shane so well, Rick had forgotten how well he knew me. What else could explain why I was all of sudden on a double date with him and Lori?_

What the fuck?!

 _Not wanting to back down from the staredown I was engaged in with Lori but urgently needing to discuss some things with my soon to be deceased best friend, I dragged my eyes from her to him._

" _Rick," I said, trying not to grit my teeth, "help me get drinks from the bar."_

" _I can help Ricky boy with that," Shane offered when I stood up. "Give you hens a chance to catch up and cluck while the roosters are away."_

" _Uh... no," I said, stopping him from getting up with a hand to his broad shoulder. I was thrown off by the hen comment but was too pissed off at Rick to be bothered by it._ _"_ _Rick and I will get the drinks. What's your poison?" I asked him._

 _Shane's eyes raked over my skirt and lingered on my exposed thighs before he raised his eyes to mine. He gave me a big, toothy smile and drummed his hands on the table._

" _Only the_ _King of Beers will do for a king, baby!" he said a little too loudly, causing heads to turn our way again._

" _Budweiser coming right up_ _," I told him, gently squeezing his shoulder. "Let's go," I said curtly to Rick, cutting my eyes at him._

" _Lori, what-" he began to ask._

" _You know she wants a Cosmopolitan, Rick. Let's. Go."_

 _I grabbed his arm and pulled him from his chair to the bar._

 _After I put in our order for a bucket of Budweiser and a Cosmopolitan, I put my hands on my hips and stared at Rick. He turned away from me and started bobbing his head to the Goo Goo Dolls song playing softly in the bar area._

 _I rolled my eyes._

 _Rick Grimes had never once in his life bobbed his head to the Goo Goo Dolls. He hated the Goo Goo Dolls. He especially hated this particular song—"Slide"—because of how it was used in high school during his baseball games._

 _Every time he or another player was running from one base to another or from third base to home plate, "So why don't you slide?" would blast over the P.A. system. The team started forfeiting home games until the song was banned._

" _Richard," I said, narrowing my eyes and crossing my arms._

 _I could see him weighing his fight or flight options. I wasn't sure why. He wouldn't get far if he chose flight, and he knew it. He finally stopped bobbing his head and looked at me._

" _Explain to me why I'm on a double date with you and Lori!_ _" I whisper-shouted._

" _I… Michonne, I_ _don't really see the problem," he very bravely told me._

" _You don't… " I stopped myself to take a calming breath. "You don't see the problem?" I asked slowly, trying not to explode._

 _Rick swallowed hard and then very bravely nonchalantly shrugged._

 _He was so lucky that I recently adopted a cool, calm, and collected approach to life and no longer lost my shit in public._

" _Rick," I growled, taking a step towards him and poking him in the chest, "I don't need a chaperone, and you know I don't invite Lori into my personal business like this."_

 _I glanced at our table and watched Shane making small talk with Lori._

 _Poor guy._

" _Look, it's not a big deal, Michonne. Y_ _ou wanted to meet Shane. I wanted to introduce Lori to him without her feelin' like the third wheel. Two birds, one stone."_

Two birds, one…

 _I took another calming breath._

" _Richard, do you remember that time you lied to me about getting engaged? And how you agreed to hook me up with Shane as part of your apology?"_

" _I didn't lie about it," he argued._

 _I gave him a look._

" _Yeah, I remember," he mumbled._

" _So then you know that hijacking_ _my apology for Lori's third wheel ass is bullshit! You know that's not how an apology works, jerk."_

"' _Chonne," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders. "Do_ _n't be mad, ok?"_

 _I shook his hands off and gave him a death stare._

" _Stop that," he said, tugging on a loc. "You looked so pretty earlier, and now you look so evil."  
_

" _Rick," I growled in warning._

" _Ok, ok," he said, holding his hands up and taking a step back. "Listen,_ _Shane can be a lot sometimes. And he goes through a lot of girls, Michonne. A lot. None of 'em are smart, and classy, and driven like you. I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable with him before leavin' you two alone. And I wasn't tryin' to ruin your night bringin' Lori along. I know you two don't always get along, but... I don't know, I just thought everyone wins this way. Lori's happy. You're happy."_

 _I rubbed the bridge of my nose. That wasn't how the universe worked with me and Lori. If Lori was happy, I most certainly was not._

 _And I wasn't exactly looking for a commitment from Shane. He probably had a good head on his shoulders since he was enrolled in the Academy, but that's not why I asked Rick to set us up. Shane was hot and he looked like fun._

 _I needed fun._

 _I'd had no time whatsoever to prepare for Rick's engagement. Without warning or discussion, Rick was officially Lori's. Lori was officially Rick's. He seemed so happy about that, and of course, if he was happy, I was happy._

 _But Lori was happy, too._

" _After we eat,_ _if you're ok bein' alone with Shane, then me and Lori will leave," Rick said. "But if you want us to leave right now, we will."_

 _I wanted to tell him to leave—_ _I_ _should have told him to leave—_ _but_ _his blue eyes were begging me to let him stay._ _And when all was said and done, he was just trying to be good friend to me, even if he was going about it in a very stupid way._

 _When I rolled my eyes, Rick smiled and gave me a big hug._

" _Your Big Kat toll just went up," I informed him after our hug ended. "I want five a week now."_

" _It's already at three, Michonne."_

" _And now it's at six," I stated crisply._

" _Fine, but you're gonna weigh 600 pounds by the time we're thirty," he teased._

" _And you'll still love me and bring me my Big Kats when I want them," I retorted, sticking my tongue out at him. "And gross! Don't talk about us being thirty, Rick! That's so old!"_

 _He rolled his eyes. "It's only eight years away, 'Chonne, and it's not that old. Think about it," he said, putting his arm around my shoulders, "me, you, and D will live on the same street, and our kids will grow up together, and they'll be best friends just like us," he grinned._

" _Ok, Rick," I said dismissively._

 _Rick didn't always think about things realistically._

 _Realistically, no one wanted to live on the same street as Lori. Also, the older we got, the more the three of us would continue to grow individually and probably independent of each other. It was already happening. Daryl was doing his biker thing and Rick was doing this marriage thing._

 _As far as kids went, Daryl would have to lose his virginity to have kids, and there was no telling if that day would ever come. I was considering going to law school after I finished grad school, but after I earned my law degree, I'd want to establish myself at a firm. Having kids by thirty wasn't a priority for me and neither was being around other people's kids, including Rick and Lori's._

 _"I shit you not! It was a goddamn chupacabra!" Shane's voice boomed, catching the attention of almost everyone in the restaurant._

 _I watched Lori laugh at whatever story he was telling._

" _How much has Lori had to drink?" I asked Rick, noticing that the stick up her ass wasn't lodged as deeply as normal._

" _She hasn't had anythang._ _Just water," he said, looking at Lori and Shane. "Why do you ask?"_

" _No reason," I said innocently._

 _I couldn't wait to tell Daryl that Lori could do more than glare or sit with a pinched expression on her face. I also couldn't wait to tell him about that new spiral curl hairdo she was sporting._

" _What are you laughin' at?" Rick asked, smiling at me._

" _Nothing," I said innocently, bottling the rest of my laughter to share it with Daryl. "Hey, what did Shane mean when he made that comment about me sitting in sugar?"_

 _Rick sighed and pulled his arm from my shoulders. "It's just a line he uses sometimes… about how sweet an ass looks," he mumbled._

 _I grinned. "So this skirt was the right choice."_

" _If you were goin' for too short and too tight, then yeah, it's the right choice," he replied sarcastically._

" _Then it was the right choice,_ _" I beamed._

 _Rick squinted at me. "_ _Are you even wearin' underwear, Michonne?"_

 _I laughed. This skirt was definitely the right choice._

" _Grab the Cosmo, I'll get the bucket," I said when I saw that our drinks were ready._

 _I was eager to get back to the table before Lori's stick realized it was too loose and she ran my date off._

* * *

I reached for my phone on the nightstand.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

 _That Piece of Shit Shane._

I unlocked my phone and pressed my text messages icon.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

 _That Piece of Shit Shane._

I quickly pecked out a text to Daryl.

 **Michonne:** _Are you with Rick?_

I turned my ringer back on and got out of bed to get my duffel bag from the closet.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

 _That Piece of Shit Shane._

My cell phone chirped, alerting me to an incoming text, which better have been from Daryl.

 **Daryl:** _Still at work_

 **Daryl:** _What now?_

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

 _That Piece of Shit Shane._

 **Michonne:** _The goddamn devil strikes again_

 **Michonne:** _Get to Rick's ASAP_

I waited for him to respond before setting my phone down.

 **Daryl:** _k_

I packed my duffel bag with enough clothes to last for the rest of the week and then changed out of my pajamas into cutoff shorts and a tshirt. My hair was still set in the french braid wrap I'd styled for my date with Panty Man, so I took it down and let my locs hang loosely down my back.

Panty Man.

 _That Fucking Asshole._

My eye twitched and my hand balled into a fist, but my Panty Man emotion still had to remain on the back burner for now. To ensure that it did, I quickly pecked out two more text messages.

 **Michonne:** _I'll be out the rest of the week_

 **Michonne:** _Everything is still a go?_

While I waited for a response, I sat down on my couch and composed an email to my firm advising that I would be out of the office. After I sent it, my cell phone chirped.

 **EP:** _That is an affirmative to your interrogatory._

 **EP:** _Operation P.M.P.M. is a go._

That was all I needed to keep my Panty Man emotion at a simmer.

 **Michonne:** _Check in after phase 1._

 **Michonne:** _Delete these messages._

After I deleted the messages, I called Mika to confirm she knew I was taking the rest of the week off. She didn't ask for details, but she did share how the rumor mill was on fire with news about Lori.

Per rumor #1, Lori had shown up at the Greene farm flaunting her, quote, dumbass, douchebag, asshole, unquote, boyfriend. When Rick saw them, he hulked out and destroyed Lori's SUV.

Per rumor #2, Lori had broken into Rick's house and attempted to seduce him with a home-cooked meal. Disgusted by both the sight of her and by her cooking, Rick hulked out and destroyed Lori's SUV.

Per rumor #3, Lori had crashed Nugget's birthday party and refused to leave. After she became combative, the Greene sisters gave her a tag team-style beatdown while Rick, who had hulked out, destroyed her SUV.

Considering that an entire neighborhood watched me destroy the SUV, I found it curious that all the rumors pointed to Rick as being the one to lose his shit. It was just one more thing I'd have to discuss with him when I saw him.

Mika and I briefly chatted about her weekend visit with her sister, and before our call ended, I told her to contact me if she needed me for anything during the workweek.

The last call I needed to make before going to see Rick was to Rick. He answered mid-way through the second ring.

"'Chonne?" he asked in surprise. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," I replied in a voice mirroring his.

My butterflies were back and fluttering, and somehow they were affecting my ability to speak.

"Hi," Rick said after a short bout of silence.

"Hi," I said, nervously twisting one of my locs around my finger.

Our newest bout of silence was filled with the steady sounds of our breathing.

I cleared my throat. "Hi, Rick," I said softly.

"Hi, Michonne," Rick said in a voice mirroring mine.

"Muhmuh!" I heard Nugget excitedly yell. "MUHMUH!"

"Yes, Carl," Rick laughed, "it's your Muhmuh!"

"Muhmuh!" Nugget happily squealed again.

I was about to happily squeal into the phone myself, but the joy of hearing his voice suddenly clashed with the anguish I felt over Fucking Lori Grimes' rejection of him.

My eyes filled with tears.

My heart swelled with so much emotion so quickly that I thought it would burst.

"Carl, wait! Wait just a second, son. Hold on, Carl!" Rick said in exasperation. "Ok, 'Chonne, you're on speaker."

"Hi, Nugget!" I said joyfully in spite of the tears that started to fall.

"Muhmuh! Juh ber bee hun co sha zep bok erp-"

"No, Carl!" Rick interjected. "Let go. Don't put that in your mouth, son… Carl, no!" he said sternly.

"Daduuuuuuuuu!" Nugget wailed, undoubtedly shedding a few crocodile tears to sell his distress.

When I heard what sounded like the phone fall to the floor, I smiled and wiped away my tears. As I continued to listen to my guys and their chaos, my laughter pushed down my anguish altogether.

"Carl! Get back over here!" I heard Rick yell.

Nugget, no longer distressed, giggled boisterously.

"Judith! Come back, sweetie!" Rick yelled.

I heard what had to have been her soft giggle.

"Gotcha!" Rick shouted.

I heard his giddy-sounding voice but couldn't make out what he was saying over Nugget and Judith's giggles.

"Hey," he breathed out into the phone a few minutes later.

"Hey, daddy," I grinned, "sounds like your hands are full."

"You have no idea! I've never been so happy to have a playpen, Mich."

"You put my Nugget in baby prison?" I laughed.

"Hell yeah I did!" he whispered into the phone. "I put 'em both back in there. It's a damn three-ring circus over here! Carl's bein' Carl—curious and gettin' into thangs he shouldn't. And when Judy-pie's not bein' Carl's shadow, she's crawlin' all over the place."

"Oh yeah?" I asked as my grip on my phone tightened.

First it was "sweetie" and now it was "Judy-pie" _._ After less than a day, Rick was already attached.

 _Shit._

"Mmhmm. They were out on good behavior from earlier," Rick continued, drawing me out of my head, "but after Carl just tried to eat my phone, they both made a run for it. Little stinkers," he chuckled.

He sighed the way he often did after a long shift at work, which meant he was relaxing into the couch and stretching his legs out on the coffee table. While he made himself comfortable, I listened to the sounds of Nugget's loud babbling and Judith's occasional squeals in the background.

"So..." Rick said slowly, "not that I'm complainin', but I didn't think I'd hear from you until much later tonight or tomorrow mornin'. Is somethin' wrong?" he asked. "Well, is somethin' more wrong?" he tried to joke, but the lightness he was forcing into his voice didn't mask the concern that was also there.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I hadn't planned on telling him what was more wrong over the phone.

"I just wanted to stop by," I said instead.

Rick sighed heavily. "Michonne, you know you can just come over. You don't have to-"

"I know. I know, Rick," I interrupted before he got himself worked up, "but I'm not sure if my key still works. I don't know if the locks were changed or..." I trailed off.

I anxiously pulled the M charm on my necklace back and forth across its chain. The locks were the reason I was calling. I wanted to know upfront if I was going to be disappointed when I got to the front door.

Although he said he was going to take certain steps to cement the end of his relationship with Fucking Lori Grimes, I knew it was easier to say something in the heat of the moment than to actually do that something after the heated moment passed.

What if the locks weren't…

I shook my head at myself.

 _Stop, Michonne._

Daryl was right. I needed to have more faith in Rick. I needed to stop letting my doubt or disbelief interfere with that faith. If he said he was changing the locks, then he was changing the locks.

"Your new key and garage door opener are sittin' on the table next to the front door," he said. "Now are you gonna tell me what's goin' on? What's wrong, Michonne?"

The fleeting calm in Rick's voice stopped me from dancing around my living room in celebration. I hated that I was worrying him, but I really didn't want to discuss Fucking Lori Grimes and That Piece of Shit Shane if we weren't face-to-face.

"Shit," he mumbled. "It's that bad, huh?"

 _Yes. It is._

"We'll talk once I get there, Rick. I'm about to leave now," I told him, standing up.

"Sure, yeah, ok," he agreed. "But uh…" he said quietly, "is it about earlier? When I left your condo?"

His unease forced me back down onto the couch. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was uncomfortable with how he had touched me, or spoken to me, or looked at me.

"No, Rick," I said gently. "That was… good."

I closed my eyes and cringed.

 _Oh my God._

Did I really just say "That was good"? I started pulling my M charm back and forth across its chain again, waiting for Rick's response. When he didn't respond, I quietly let out the breath I was holding and listened carefully to his silence.

I rolled my eyes.

"Stop smiling," I ordered, letting go of my M charm.

"I'm not smilin'," he claimed.

"I can hear you smiling, Rick."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Michonne," he said with what I knew was an even bigger smile. "But..."

I sighed.

 _Here we go._

"But if I _was_ smilin', I bet you wouldn't mind," he said in a teasing voice.

I picked at the invisible lint on my shorts.

"You wanna know why?" he asked.

"No," I answered as disinterestedly as possible.

He ignored me.

"Because you really, really love my face, Michonne."

I ignored him but only because I was trying not to laugh at how adorably annoying he was being.

"Have you been thinkin' about it today?"

"I have not," I lied.

"Yeeaaaah, you have," he said, smiling again. "Michonne Collette Danvers can't stop thinkin' about my face... Admit it," he whispered.

Shivers shot up my spine. I wasn't admitting anything, though. If I did, I'd end up revealing what I'd been doing during that 20-minute shower when I was thinking about his face.

Thankfully, I was saved from admitting or revealing anything by Nugget's loud babbling in the background.

"Those little stinkers," Rick grumbled. "They're tryin' to break outta baby prison. I gotta go, Mich," he said apologetically.

I didn't mind the disruption at all. Besides not wanting to discuss his face, we had much more serious matters to discuss off of the phone. It was best that we ended the call.

"When dadu duty calls, you have to answer," I told him. "I'll be over soon."

I heard him smiling again.

"Ok," he said.

"Ok," I said, hoping he could hear me smiling.

"And Michonne?"

The change in the tone of his voice sent another shiver up my spine.

"Yes, Rick?" I asked softly.

"Just so you know, I was thinkin' about your face, too. See you soon."

I stared at my phone after Rick hung up, torn between dancing around my living room like a crazy person or taking my clothes off and jumping in the shower. I'd see Rick sooner if I danced around like a crazy person, so I queued up "Happy" on my phone, put my hair in a messy bun, and danced away.

* * *

"Frob choo bee doh irt fah lurp grap imp didi!" Nugget excitedly gibbered away.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, and Nugget was standing on my lap as he gibbered.

"What else do you like about being a one-year-old?" I asked.

"Gert bop loo fet bo mosh jaba," he grinned.

"Sounds exciting, Nugget!" I grinned back.

He put his hands on my cheeks and squished my face.

"Perhaps you should give some thought to remaining a one-year-old for the next five to ten years," I suggested. "Will you do that for me? Will you do that for Muhmuh?" I asked, giving him Eskimo kisses.

"Muhmuh!" he squealed, throwing his head back and giggling wildly.

Those giggles would have been infectious if not for a surge of Fucking Lori Grimes rage that was building. It was the third surge since I arrived at the house about 45 minutes ago.

The first surge hit after I parked in the driveway—on the right side of the driveway where my car belonged—and saw Fucking Lori Grimes' luggage sitting on the curb. I didn't know if these were the things she couldn't take or didn't want to take or was planning on coming back later to take, and I didn't care. All I cared about was getting the lighter fluid, finding some matches, and setting her shit on fire.

But the second I got out of my car, Rick walked onto the porch with Nugget and Judith tucked under his arms like footballs. He hollered out something ridiculous about how fast I got there to see his face, and the surge passed.

The second surge hit before I told Rick about That Piece of Shit Shane's phone call. Rick and I were sitting on the couch in the living room and watching the babies. Nugget was playing with a toy truck that was almost as big as he was, and Judith was jumping up and down in Nugget's old Jumperoo. It was the first time that I did more than glance at Judith. Her big brown eyes told me everything I needed to know about who her father was.

Before I could excuse myself, get the lighter fluid, find some matches, and march to the luggage, Rick placed his hand on my knee and asked me to talk to him. The surge passed.

I didn't think Rick would be able to get me through this third surge.

He was standing at the stove holding Judith and mixing a pot of chili mac & cheese. Since his back was to me, I could only judge his frame of mind by how uncomfortably stiff his shoulders looked. It was apparent that he was dealing with his own surge of emotions.

Surprisingly, telling Rick about Fucking Lori Grimes and That Piece of Shit Shane was more difficult than I thought it would be. I'd rehearsed what I was going to say on my drive over, but when we were sitting on the couch and I was looking into his eyes, I stumbled over the words that I knew would hurt him on some level. After I finally got all of the words out, I braced myself for a head tilting, eye squinting, ready to bite a throat out type of reaction. I watched anxiously as his face flushed, his jaw tensed, and then… nothing.

With a blank face, he got up from the couch and picked Judith up. He studied her for about five minutes without saying a thing and then asked me if I was hungry. Without waiting for my answer, he walked into the kitchen and started making chili mac & cheese.

His non-reaction reaction immediately started stressing me out. Rick Grimes didn't do non-reaction reactions. I didn't want to think the worst, but I couldn't help but think that Fucking Lori Grimes had broken him again.

I had to count to one hundred to calm myself down.

I had to count to two hundred to stay calm.

After I counted to three hundred for good measure, I picked Nugget up and walked to the kitchen. When I asked Rick if he needed any help cooking, he gave me a small smile, shook his head, and turned back to the stove. He'd been at the stove cooking his chili mac & cheese, steaming baby carrots, and taking long looks at Judith ever since.

That surge of Fucking Lori Grimes rage was growing stronger. Because Rick was too preoccupied to take Nugget, I'd just have to put him in his playpen, get the lighter fluid, find the matches, and-

"Muhmuh," Nugget said, interrupting my thoughts. "Pert za eeba cha cho."

I looked into his big blue eyes. He squeezed my nose.

Who knew that "Pert za eeba cha cho" and a nose squeeze could quiet my rage and stop me from setting luggage on fire?

I cradled my baby boy in my arms and attacked him with kisses until he was entirely too red from laughing entirely too hard. Once he calmed down, his eyes found the M charm on my necklace and a smile spread across his face.

I knew that smile.

"I love you, but I don't think so, mister," I laughed, lifting him above my head. "How about we practice walking instead of you pulling on Muhmuh's necklace?"

He gave me an adorable little pout when I stood up and put him on my hip.

"Nugget and I are going for a little walk," I announced to Rick. "Say 'bye bye'," I said to Nugget.

Rick looked at us and smiled as Nugget waved.

"Bye bye," Rick said to him while waving goodbye with one of Judith's tiny hands.

Nugget squealed and waved even more emphatically, making Judith coo and kick her little feet. I suppose some would consider that to be a cute moment, but I stood there unaffected. All I saw when I looked at that little girl was the spawn of Fucking Lori Grimes and That Piece of Shit Shane.

 _Don't roll your eyes at a baby. Don't roll your eyes at a baby. Don't roll your eyes at a baby._

I plastered a smile on my face and turned to walk out of the kitchen with Nugget.

"Michonne," Rick called out after I took a few steps.

I stopped and looked into his eyes that were clouded with emotions he had yet to express. I held my breath in anticipation of his next words.

"Michonne, you do know that… You do know that Carl's too young to learn how to start fires, right?"

 _Oh my God._

"Ha ha," I deadpanned. "We're just taking a stroll inside the house, Richard."

"Just checkin'," he shrugged nonchalantly, turning back to the stove.

I was about to narrow my eyes at him, but his shoulders looked so much more relaxed, and if I could see his face, I'm sure I would see a smile.

He'd be ready to talk soon. He wasn't broken.

"'Just checkin'," I mimicked. "Can you believe dadu?" I asked Nugget, walking out of the kitchen.

"Pluff vart coogla werl," he said, clearly empathizing with me.

"I know! And I've had to deal with him for decades," I told him.

I headed to the hallway leading to the bedrooms and set Nugget down in front of me. I took his little hands in mine when he reached out for me.

"Ok, son, let's see what you've got!"

I started walking backwards, holding onto him as he took shaky steps. The hallway led straight to my room so I directed us away from it to walk down the hallway past the guest bedroom, Rick's room, and the nursery. The hallway led us the living room, which we walked the length of until we made it back to the kitchen.

I'd held onto Nugget's hands the entire time, so my arms were burning and my back was aching, but I was so proud of my son.

"Good job, baby!" I cheered, lifting him up and giving him a kiss. "We walked the entire time without Nugget falling down once!" I excitedly told Rick.

"Way to go, Carl!" Rick cheered as he placed a small plate of chili mac & cheese and carrots on Nugget's highchair tray.

At the sight of his food, Nugget started squirming to get away from me. When I walked to the kitchen sink instead of his highchair, he started grunting in borderline panic.

"You're such a greedy goblin, Nugget! We have to wash our hands before we eat," I reminded him.

His grunting only stopped when the magic of soap and water made bubbles, or "ubbas!" as he called them. Five bubble fun-filled minutes later, I placed him in his highchair, put his bib on, and sat down at the table where my dinner and a glass of iced tea were waiting for me. Rick was sitting across from me with Judith in his lap and was feeding her mashed carrots.

He was rolling the dice with the carrots. We had no idea if Judith liked them or if she'd even started eating solid foods, but Fucking Lori Grimes hadn't brought enough formula to last beyond Judith's last feeding a few hours ago. Since Rick's truck was still at the Greene farm, Daryl volunteered to pick up more formula after he got off of work.

At some point, Fucking Lori Grimes had taken it upon herself to fill the closet in Nugget's nursery with Judith's diapers and baby clothes, so we at least didn't have to worry about those things while she was here with us.

"Mmmm!" Nugget said, bringing a handful of chili mac & cheese to his mouth and getting most of it on his cheeks and chin.

"Rick, where's Nugget's big boy spoon?" I asked, massaging my right arm from my shoulder down to my elbow.

He gave me a sheepish look. "He keeps throwin' it when I try to get him to use it, so I've been lettin' him use his hands."

"Riiiiick," I said, continuing to massage my arm. "We have to start getting him comfortable with the idea of using his spoon. He probably won't even get half of what's on his plate in his mouth."

Rick looked at Nugget. "Yeah, I guess you're right. We'll start usin' it with breakfast tomorrow," he said.

Nugget shook his head no as if he knew what we were talking about.

"Yes, we are," Rick said in a singsong voice while nodding.

Nugget shook his head again and stuffed another handful of mac & cheese into his mouth, getting most of it on his cheek.

"Not helpin' your cause, kiddo," Rick told him.

I watched him feed Judith another spoonful of carrots. He made the silliest airplane noises with the most exaggerated facial expressions to get her to eat. That shouldn't have been sexy; I'd never admit to anyone that I thought it was.

Lusting after a man who was feeding his maybe-baby after finding out that his garbage wife was a whore felt so wrong.

 _Get it together, Michonne._

"I think she likes carrots," Rick said triumphantly.

"Oh," I replied with a polite smile, massaging my left arm.

I heard how underwhelmed I sounded, so I know Rick had too. If he felt a certain way about it, he hid it well.

"Your arms are sore?" he asked.

I nodded. "From LuLu."

"So you didn't stretch first before you used her?"

"No, Rick, I didn't stretch first," I said with an eye roll. "I had other things on my mind."

"Everyone knows you gotta stretch before you start swingin' a bat, Michonne," he admonished with a smile.

I gave him another eye roll.

Getting into fights at thirty-something was really turning into a process, but if I ever found myself in another Beat a Bitch's ass situation, I would remember to stretch first.

"I can um… after these two go to bed, I mean, I can help you out with that," Rick mumbled as he fed Judith another spoonful of carrots.

I didn't even try to hide my smile. "As in a massage? Are you offering to give me a massage, Rick?"

"Mmhmm," he answered, keeping his eyes on Judith.

I was about to start teasing him about how pink his cheeks were turning until the thought of him using his hands on my body in such an intimate manner made my cheeks warm.

"Ok," I said softly, shifting in my chair. "That would be… good."

I cringed at my lack of eloquence, but Rick, still keeping his eyes on Judith, smiled.

"Muhmuh!" Nugget said loudly.

I stared at Rick a few seconds longer before looking at him. His face was covered with chili mac & cheese sauce and he was offering me a half-eaten, chili mac & cheese-covered baby carrot.

"Thank you, Nugget!" I said enthusiastically, taking it from him.

I loved that little boy with all of my heart, but I wasn't eating that carrot. Nugget often liked to share his food with me and Rick, so we were pros at pretending to eat under his watchful eyes.

"Yummm!" I said after I was done "chewing".

Satisfied that I enjoyed his gift, he concentrated on picking up another baby carrot. I discreetly placed my carrot in my napkin.

"You're gettin' good," Rick told me. "I almost believed that."

"Dadu!" Nugget said loudly, offering a chili mac & cheese-covered carrot to Rick.

Since Rick's hands were full, I took the carrot and held it up to his mouth. He pretended to eat it from my hand while making overly dramatic chewing noises. That really shouldn't have been sexy, but damn it, it was.

"Mmmmm!" he said to Nugget. "Delicious!"

Nugget smiled at Rick and then smashed his hands in his chili mac & cheese. I discreetly placed the carrot in my napkin and wiped my hands with one of Nugget's face and hand wipes.

We were definitely using that big boy spoon tomorrow.

"Michonne," Rick said, feeding Judith the last of her carrots, "tell me again what he said."

I sighed and looked down at my plate of untouched chili mac & cheese. More than anything, I wanted this to be a typical Monday evening dinner where the most disruptive thing to happen was Nugget shouting "uhoh!" after purposely dropping food he didn't want to eat onto the floor.

"Tell me again, Michonne. Please."

I sat back in my chair and brought my eyes to his.

"He said that he was looking for Lori and his baby girl Judith," I said, repeating what I'd already told him earlier. "He said that no one knew where Lori was and that she wasn't answering her phone, but he had reason to believe she returned to King County. After I confirmed that they both were here, he said that he was driving here from Florida and that he'd be here tomorrow morning."

Rick's reaction to hearing this a second time was almost the same as when I told him the first time, but instead of staring at Judith and walking away, he stared at Judith and started talking.

"When I held her for the first time, I couldn't see myself in her face. I could see traces of Lori, but I couldn't see me. I still don't. No matter how hard I look, I don't," he said quietly.

 _Because she's not yours, Rick._

"Then I started to think about my mama. If Judith takes after any Grimes, it would be her. It would make sense why Lori named Judith after her, wouldn't it?" he asked.

 _No._

 _If_ that child was truly a Grimes, then, yes, the genes of Rick's mother, Grace Judith Grimes, had kicked in. Rick himself did not inherit any of his mother's darker features. He looked so much like his father that "Papa's baby! Mama's maybe?" was a running joke in their family.

I could see why Rick would think of his mother when he saw Judith, but Judith's features came courtesy of That Piece of Shit Shane.

On my drive over here, I'd given thought to why Fucking Lori Grimes would name her daughter Judith Grace. I honestly believed she'd done so to manipulate and confuse Rick. I honestly believed that before her child was born, she knew she would try to weasel her way back into our lives.

"But ever since you told me about Shane callin', all I see is him when I look at her," Rick said. "I haven't seen him in over a decade, but I can see his face in hers as clear as day."

 _Because she's not yours, Rick._

He gently rubbed his hand down her little curls.

"The thing is," he said, looking up at me. "I don't know if that's just what I wanna see or if she really does look like him."

My stomach dropped. I didn't like where this conversation was heading.

"Michonne, the last time Lori and I were together was that night before you moved in. Knowin' that she was also with someone else back then, that she was with _Shane_ , is..."

His face flushed, his jaw tensed, and then… nothing. He swallowed hard and pushed down whatever was rising.

"But bein' with him doesn't change that she was also with me," he said. "It doesn't change that there's a chance that Judith is mine."

 _Fuck._

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. Ultimately, I'd told That Piece of Shit Shane that Fucking Lori Grimes and Judith were here in King County so he would come take his family back to Florida. I was not expecting this curve ball Rick was throwing.

"I'm not sayin' she's mine, Michonne. I'm just sayin' there's a chance."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose harder. Rick was technically right, but he was also absolutely wrong. There was no chance that Judith was his daughter.

Only one thing would prove that.

"When's the DNA test scheduled?" I asked, looking into his cloudy blue eyes.

"The soonest Dr. Cloyd could arrange one was on Wednesday mornin'. We should get the results back within an hour. After that-"

Judith made a strange little noise. Before we realized what was happening, Rick's white tshirt was covered in the carrots he just fed her.

"Uhoh!" Nugget shouted when Judith started to cry.

"It's ok," Rick said soothingly to Nugget. "It's ok, sweetie," Rick said soothingly to Judith. "I guess you don't like carrots after all, huh?"

After Rick wiped her mouth and took her soiled bib off, he stood up, holding her away from his shirt.

"'Chonne," Rick said, holding her out to me. "Will you take her?"

 _Huh?_

I could barely stomach looking at Judith. There was no way I was holding her.

"Rick!" I complained, leaning away from her.

"Michonne, I'm covered in carrots. Changin' outta this shirt will be easier if she's with you," he said. "I'll just be a few minutes."

I sighed and took her from him without looking at her.

"Thank you," Rick said, rubbing my back before rushing out of the kitchen.

Judith was still crying, but I kept my head turned away from her and towards Nugget. He stared at me with a frown on his face.

"What is it, baby?" I asked him over Judith's cries.

 _Was he..._

"Carl Glendrick Grimes, don't you squint your eyes at me. I'm trying here, son."

"Hab mo nano grok furfy shoop," he said, still frowning.

 _Oh my God._

When did he get so bossy and judgmental?

"Fine. I'll try harder," I told him.

I slowly turned my head away from him and looked at Judith. She immediately stopped crying and bashfully looked at me with her watery brown eyes.

"Hello," I said formally. "I am Michonne."

She blinked once, blinked again, gurgled, and put her hand in her mouth.

There was something about that gurgle.

The softness of it crumbled the wall I was irrationally building to keep my distance from her. The sweetness of it made me see her as I should have been seeing her when her existence was revealed.

She was just an innocent baby. An innocent, adorable baby. She couldn't help who her parents were. She wasn't responsible for their actions.

"Hi, Pumpkin," I whispered to her. "I'm Nugget's Muhmuh."

She gave me a shy smile and kicked her feet. When Rick walked back into the kitchen, her face lit up completely.

 _I feel the same way, Pumpkin._

"Dadu!" Nugget cheered.

Rick ruffled Nugget's hair and gave me a quick kiss on my temple before taking Judith.

"Did you make a new friend?" he asked her, holding her close.

He'd changed into a gray King County Sheriff's Department tshirt and had a towel draped over his shoulder. Judith rested her head there and stared up into his face.

"I'll try givin' her some formula once Daryl gets here in case she's still hungry," he said, rubbing her back as he sat back down at the table.

"Muhmuh," Nugget whined, reaching his arms out for me.

"Looks like someone's ready for his after dinner cuddles," I said to him with a smile as I reached for his wipes to clean him up.

While I was wiping one of Nugget's hands, Rick told me that Morales called while he was changing and had tracked down that Piece of Shit Shane's address in Florida.

"Oh yeah?" I asked.

"Mmhm. And there hasn't been a police report filed against Lori or an AMBER Alert issued for Judith in the county he lives in. Morales is gonna keep an eye on that and let me know if anythang changes."

"Was he able to find out anything else about him?" I asked, cleaning Nugget's other hand.

"He's been livin' in Florida for the last twelve years. Workin' as a private investigator for the last five, which probably explains how he tracked you down."

I rolled my eyes and started cleaning Nugget's face. "You're telling me he's a PI, but he couldn't keep tabs on Pumpkin and her mother? So he's an a-hole and an idiot. Good to know," I said, shaking my head.

When Rick didn't say anything, I looked at him.

"'Pumpkin'?" he asked with a smile.

I smiled back and resumed wiping the chili mac & cheese from Nugget's face. "You heard me."

"How do I get one of those fancy nicknames of yours?" he asked.

"I tried to give you a nickname the first day we met. Remember, Curly Q?" I laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he grumbled.

I laughed again. He hated that nickname then and still hated it now.

"Michonne," he said seriously, "… about Shane… I know he'll be here tomorrow, but until we know for sure who Pumpkin's father is, I think she should stay here... with us."

I continued cleaning Nugget's face without saying anything.

"It'll just be 'til Wednesday, and I'll take full responsibility for her. You won't have to do a thang. Early mornin' cryin'? I'm on it. Dirty diapers? I'm on it. Bath time? Chow time? I'm on it," he said. "I just feel like I have an obligation to-"

"It's fine, Rick," I told him, lifting Nugget out of his highchair. "She should stay until we know."

"Yeah?" he asked in surprise.

"Yeah," I said.

I was bothered by how surprised he sounded because it must've meant the disdain I'd felt towards Judith had been blatant. I felt awful and ashamed.

"Ud koo wip skee pochy," Nugget babbled, giving me a kiss and a big goofy grin.

"Thanks, Nugget," I sighed, hugging him close.

"Thank you, Michonne," Rick said in a high-pitched voice.

"Rick, what was that supposed to be?" I asked, sitting back down.

"It's Pumpkin thankin' you."

"Has Pumpkin been taking hits of helium? I don't like that voice," I teased, grabbing Nugget's sippy cup and helping him drink from it.

"Well, that's how she sounds, Michonne. Isn't that right, Judy-pie?" he asked her. "Yes," he said, answering for her in his high-pitched helium voice.

"Is that really how you think little girls sound?" I asked him.

"Yep. Little girls, women, old ladies. You all sound the same," he laughed.

I could only shake my head and laugh.

When Nugget had enough water, I put his sippy cup down and dug into my chili mac & cheese. If someone had told me two weeks ago that I'd be eating dinner with my almost-but-not-quite boyfriend Rick, his maybe-baby Judith, and my son Nugget, I would have done everything I could to have that person committed. But here I was. Here we were.

"Do you have a preference in how you want this all to work out, Rick?" I asked.

He scratched the stubble on his jaw, giving my question thought.

"I'm just curious," I told him. "There's no wrong answer."

"I know. It's just not an easy answer, Michonne. You know how long I wanted to be a dad, so if she's mine, I kinda have a 'the more, the merrier' attitude. I think I could handle another one. I think I have daddin' down."

I smirked at him. "After one year, you've mastered dadding?"

"Not really," he smiled, "I'm gettin' there, though. Mostly because of you... But as happy as I'd be for her to be mine, I don't know if this is somethin' _you_ would wanna be a part of. And I don't know that it's fair to ask you to be a part of it."

I looked at Judith. After That Piece of Shit Shane's call, I didn't consider that a future with Rick could include her in an all day, every day capacity.

"If she's not mine," Rick continued, "I'd feel relieved. I wouldn't have missed out on another child's first few months of life, and I wouldn't have to deal with Lori. I'd also get to spend time with just Carl and you. I was really lookin' forward to that... just the three of us bein' together."

I smiled at his admission.

"Me, too," I whispered.

A slow rise of pink colored his face, and I felt so indescribably happy.

"We'll know where we stand on Wednesday, and we'll go from there," I told him. "We'll figure it out. Together."

I looked down at Nugget who was humming a little song and trying to grab the M charm on my necklace.

"Do you ever think about if you want any more?" Rick asked.

"Two more," I told him without hesitation.

His eyes lit up. "Boys? Girls? One of each?"

"Doesn't matter to me. As long as they're as amazing as Nugget, I'm happy," I said. "What about you?"

He gave me a bright smile and a half-shrug. "Two more is a good start."

That smile. I almost got lost in the warmth of it.

Almost.

 _A good start?_

"Rick, how many-"

I lost my train of thought when I heard my phone ringing in the front room:

"I've got the eye of a tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire,

'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar..."

 _Maggie!_

I forgot to call Maggie back.

 _ShitShitShitShitShit!_

I cringed as Katy Perry continued blaring. There were so many ways this call could go, and 99% of them were very, very bad.

"Michonne? You gonna answer that?" Rick asked.

Three loud, impatient knocks on the front door made us jump.

 _Oh no._

"She's here," I whispered, squeezing Nugget to my chest. "Shit!"

"IT!" Nugget shouted.

"Shit," I groaned.

"Iiiiiiiiit!" Nugget shouted again.

I gave Rick a look when he laughed.

"What?" he asked with amusement shining in his eyes. "I only heard about him shoutin' S-H-I-T. It's so much more adorable seein' it in person."

Katy Perry continued screeching about roaring and there were three more aggressive knocks on the door.

"IT!" Nugget shouted again.

Judith lifted her head from Rick's shoulder and gurgled.

 _Oh my God._

"Both of you, stop that! That's a bad word," I told their gleeful little faces. "Swear jar starts tomorrow, Rick."

He laughed again. "What did I do? You're the one who said S-H-I-T!"

I gave him another look.

"Your looks don't scare me, sweetheart, but if you really wanna get a swear jar, I'll get you your swear jar."

"Good," I said, filing away how he said "sweetheart" to swoon over at another time. "So we should probably just answer the door and deal with Maggie head-on."

"You should," Rick agreed.

I tilted my head and squinted at him.

" _I_ should? You want me to deal with Maggie by myself?"

Katy kept screeching. Maggie kept pounding on the door.

"On a scale of one to ten, she's probably at an eight, Rick."

"You can handle Maggie at an eight," he scoffed. "Besides, she doesn't know about Pumpkin yet. Once you get her up to speed on everythang, we'll come out."

"You'll come out from hiding," I deadpanned.

"That's right," he smiled shamelessly. "Now will you answer the door before she starts pickin' the lock?"

Rick wasn't joking. Maggie had done it before.

I groaned.

"Be extra cute, ok?" I asked Nugget on our way to the front door.

"It!" he giggled.

"A little less cute, baby," I told him, kissing the top of his head.

After I said a quick prayer, I opened the door.

As expected, Maggie's face was set in a dreadful scowl. What I wasn't expecting to see were the smiling faces of Glenn and the rest of the Greenes.

"It," I muttered.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! Reviews are appreciated! A Family Affair part 2 will be posted by the end of the week!

Special shout outs to Winterscorpion for the friendly competition (1-1, baby!) and to Bolinthings whose review inspired one last TF-themed chapter!


	22. A Family Affair (part 2)

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay! It took longer to edit than I thought. Thank you for reading, and thank you if you reviewed, favorited, or followed after reading the last chapter!

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 22: A Family Affair (part 2)**

"Gam!" Nugget squealed excitedly.

Maggie's face instantly softened at the sight of him. "Hey, Carl!" she chirped, stepping into the house to give him a tummy tickle and kisses all over his cheeks.

When he puckered his lips and demanded more kisses, Maggie's eyes sparkled and her lips turned up in the prettiest smile.

 _Yes! Yes! Yes!_

My baby's cuteness was about to save the day!

 _No. No. No._

After she gave Nugget another flurry of kisses, she took a small step away from him and the exuberance drained from her face.

"Hello, Michonne," she said with an iciness in her voice that would have made Fucking Lori Grimes proud.

"Muhmuh!" Nugget shouted, clapping his hands.

Maggie put her hand on her hip and looked me up and down. "I see you're not dead. Wasn't sure since you _**never**_ called."

She glared at me with steely, green eyes.

 _Show no fear, Michonne._

"Did you get my text message? The one where I very politely asked you to call me?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Her text—"Call me later slut!"—was neither polite nor formatted as a question, but I wasn't about to point either of those things out.

"I did get your text," I answered casually.

Her face started to tighten back into a scowl. "So then you didn't spend the night in jail."

"I did not," I confirmed.

She put her other hand on her hip.

 _Show no fear, Michonne._

"Were you fu-"

"Use your safe words, babe!" Glenn interjected from the porch.

Maggie looked slightly flustered but recovered quickly. "Were you… havin' naked fun time with Rick?" she asked.

 _Naked fun time?_

That was an interesting choice of words, but was she seriously asking me if Rick and I had sex when Glenn and all of the Greenes were actively listening _and_ I was holding Nugget?

I rubbed the bridge of my nose for what felt like the hundredth time today.

"I'll take that as a no," she seethed, slowly turning a light shade of dark red. "So let me get this straight… you weren't dead, you weren't locked up, and you weren't knocked out from naked fun time with Rick... but I didn't hear from you all day? Not _one_ call! Not _one_ text!"

"Maggie, I can explain," I said calmly.

Her face crumbled and her hands fell from her hips dejectedly. "Save it," she sniffled. "Carl, I just can't right now with your mama," she sniffled again, walking away from us.

"Muhmuh," Nugget cooed, resting his head on my shoulder.

"Maggie, just hear me out," I said when she plopped down on the couch.

"Not. Interested," she scowled, and in classic Maggie fashion, she dramatically threw her arm over her eyes. "You obviously hate me! Just leave me alone so I can die!"

 _Thank God!_

If Maggie had moved on to declarations of dying, then her fury had passed.

"Eht!" Nugget squealed.

"Hey, cutie!" Beth grinned, shaking one of his feet. "Michonne! Oh my God! I'm so proud of you!" she screamed, hugging me. _"_ You had some form issues, and you might wanna work on your upper body strength," she said in an excited rush when she pulled away, "but you started strong and finished strong. That's what counts!"

 _Started strong and finished strong?_

It sounded as if...

"You were here?" I asked her.

I'd zoned out when I was using LuLu, so it was entirely possible that Beth was in the crowd watching me, but it was unfathomable that she wouldn't have joined in on the destruction.

"Uh uh," she said, skipping to the couch. "Daryl sent video."

"Daryl sent _what_?!" I screeched.

Nugget threw his hands in the air and imitated my screeching. As soon as Beth sat down on the opposite end of the couch from Maggie, she threw her hands in the hair and imitated Nugget imitating me.

"Eht!" Nugget giggled.

"The video was kind of grainy, but it was still awesome!" Beth said, lowering her arms. "Maggie watched it, and she's more proud than I am. She's just in a mood. She called Birdie to put a curse on me because I ate the last piece of bacon this mornin'."

"I called dibs on that bacon, Bethanne!" Maggie growled with her arm still over her eyes.

"You called dibs on everythang, Margaret—the bacon, the sausage, the hashbrowns, the pancakes, the eggs, the juice! Other people get to eat, too!" Beth snapped.

"Peeboo!" Nugget shouted, putting his hand on his face and then dramatically flinging it off.

Annette stood in the doorway and covered and uncovered her eyes. "Peek-a-boo!"

"Peeboo!" Nugget shouted again when she stepped into the house.

Similar to Maggie, Annette's face fell before she addressed me. "My dear, dear Michonne, when you have a chance to take a demon down, you take the demon down, not the demon's SUV," she scolded. "But I will say... I enjoyed watchin' you take the SUV down," she grinned, giving me a loving pinch on my cheek. "And Maggie is in a mood," she said, giving Nugget a loving pinch on his cheek. "You know she loves you like a sister."

"An _older_ sister," Maggie unnecessarily pointed out.

I narrowed my eyes at her. She put her arm down to narrow her eyes at me. If she wasn't pregnant...

"Ersh!" Nugget shouted, joyfully kicking his little legs.

"Hey, partner," Hershel said to Nugget in his oh-so-soft voice. "Hey, Slugger," he said to me with a wink.

"Hi, Pop Pop," I smiled, moving to the side so he could more easily get past me on his crutches. "Where's your wheelchair, old man?"

"We made a deal," Annette said, shadowing Hershel as he made his way to the second couch in the room. "He gets to use his crutches today and today only, and then it's back to his wheelchair for the next three months like the doctor said. I'm still decidin' if I'll let him keep secretly practicin' on the crutches."

"Oh, she will," Hershel said after Annette helped him sit down. "I have ways of convincin' her to let me," he added with an eyebrow waggle.

 _Oh NoNoNoNoNo._

"Ew, Daddy!" Maggie shouted.

"Daddy, stop!" Beth yelled.

"Len!" Nugget squealed, trying to jump out of my arms and into Glenn's.

"Hey, bud!" Glenn grinned. "Look what I brought you!"

He held up the cutest, baby-sized, navy blue baseball cap with BOSS embroidered on it. Eager to have the cap in his hands, Nugget reached out for it, making it somewhat of a challenge for Glenn to put it on his head. Once it was on, I handed Nugget to Glenn and watched amusedly as he moved his head up, down, and back and forth trying to figure out what was on his head.

"Uh, Michonne," Glenn said, taking a quick glance at Maggie.

She and Beth were very loudly commiserating over Hershel's eyebrow waggle.

"No matter what Maggie says, you're not on a pizza ban," Glenn said in a low voice meant for my ears only. "Pizza's always on the house for you. She's just in a mood."

 _She… That little… How dare…_

Margaret Josephine Greene had gone too far! I couldn't believe she'd try to get me banned from Mama Mia Pizza-Rhee-A!

I took a very deep breath to keep my eye from twitching.

But…

But if she was angry enough to try to get me banned from pizza, perhaps I'd also been banned from something else.

"What about maid of honor?" I asked Glenn in a low, hopeful voice.

"Sorry, Michonne," he mumbled, giving me a sympathetic pat on my shoulder, "that's still happening."

 _FML._

Glenn walked over to the couch that Maggie and Beth were commiserating on and sat in between them. He sat Nugget down on his lap, but my boss baby pulled himself up using Glenn's shirt, and when he was standing as tall as he could, he demanded from Glenn the one thing I had prayed he wouldn't demand from me today.

"Owcy!" he shouted.

Poor Glenn, but also, better Glenn than me.

"Michonne, where's Rick?" Hershel asked over Nugget's "Owcy! Owcy! Owcy!" chanting.

That was a good question. Surely, Rick had heard that Glenn and the Greenes were here with Maggie, so I wasn't sure why he was still in hiding.

"He should be out soon," I told Hershel.

I noticed Hershel, Annette, Gleggie, and Beth look at each other and nod their heads in agreement. Because Nugget was very merrily caught up in his neverending chant, Glenn distracted him into silence by taking his new cap off his head. Nugget shot me a look of devastation that nearly broke my heart, but before that look could turn into anything more for either of us, Glenn sat Nugget down on his lap and handed him the cap.

Once it was in his hands, all was right in Nugget's world again, and it was significantly quieter in everyone else's.

"So you're probably wonderin' what we're all doin' here," Annette said. "We could lie and say we're just droppin' off Rick's truck…"

"But we watched that video from Daryl and we talked to Birdie," Beth said.

"And the rumors are flying," Glenn said.

"And you never called me," Maggie huffed, although her huff wasn't laced with anger.

"So we're here for all the dirty details… or as many as you can spare," Hershel said with a lovable smile.

"And we're also here because we love Michonne, Rick, and Carl and wanna support them in any way we can," Annette said to Hershel, lightly elbowing him in the side.

"Yes, that is true," he agreed, "but we're also very, very nosy people, Annie."

"Maggie was also really worried about you, Michonne," Glenn said to me.

Maggie was smoothing down Nugget's hair, avoiding making eye contact with me.

"You know I don't hate you," I told her. "You know I would've called you if I wasn't so overwhelmed. There was just so much to take in."

"That's what she said," Beth said under her breath.

"Beth!" Annette said sharply.

"I know," Maggie said to me, ignoring Beth. "I figured you were dealin' with stuff… thangs. I'm just in a mood."

"Because of Gleggie Jr.?" I asked. "Is your morning sickness getting worse?"

"She wishes!" Beth laughed. "Now that Maggie's been usin' her words, Glenn's helpin' her use _safe words_ to get rid of her potty mouth before the baby comes."

Maggie glared at Beth, which only made Beth laugh louder. "She wants to tell me to shut up so bad right now, but she can't because 'shut up' isn't a safe word!"

Maggie looked at Glenn with the same devastated look that Nugget had given me earlier.

"It's ok, Maggie," he said encouragingly. "Use your safe words."

She swallowed hard and looked at Beth. "Please… be… quiet," she whispered as if speaking each word pained her.

Beth laughed so hard she fell off the couch.

Maggie looked like she wanted to cry.

"Alright, Bethy. Leave your sister be," Hershel reprimanded while trying not to laugh. "Maggie, you're doin' real good," he told her.

"Yeah, Mag, safe words seem like a really good idea," I said supportively.

Her lower lip started to tremble.

I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep a straight face, so I turned away from Maggie to shut the front door. The familiar rumble of Daryl's motorcycle stopped me from closing it. I walked onto the porch and watched as he pulled up, parked his bike, and walked hurriedly to the house.

"This shit's expensive," he grumbled, holding up the baby formula.

I crossed my arms and blocked his path to the front door. When he was standing in front of me, I whisper-shouted, "You recorded me losing my shit?!"

"Huh?" he asked with a sorry excuse for a blank expression on his face.

"Don't 'huh?' me, Daryl Dixon. When were you planning on telling me?"

"Thought I did. Thought I sent the video to you," he answered with a nonchalant shrug.

 _That goddamn nonchalant shrug!_

Rick and Daryl had been driving me crazy with that simple, little gesture since the fourth grade.

"Guess I musta told Rick and sent it to him," he said. "Why don't you go ask him..."

I narrowed my eyes. I didn't care for his tone.

"So you can look at his face…" he continued.

 _Goddamnit!_

"That you really, really love," he smiled.

I groan-screamed.

Rick and Daryl were the biggest gossips I'd ever met.

Move," Daryl said, easily pushing me aside and walking into the house.

He was greeted with a chorus of cheers, including Nugget's little voice shouting, "Dee!"

While Daryl greeted everyone, I contemplated what life would be like to have nongossipy, nonviolent, nondramatic friends who didn't make me whisper-shout or groan-scream and didn't make me roll my eyes or make my eyes twitch.

Instead of Maggie, maybe I'd have a Megan. Megan and I could go to the day spa without being asked to leave because Megan wouldn't start loudly complaining about how low-class the establishment was for not serving whiskey sours during deep tissue massages.

Megan would have a little sister named Bianca. Bianca would share random but interesting facts about flowers and plants rather than detailing the most effective ways to get out of handcuffs.

Instead of Daryl, maybe I'd have a David. David and I could go to a restaurant without being asked to leave because David wouldn't throw balled up napkins or any of his meal at me, initiating food fights.

Instead of Glenn, maybe I'd have a… well, I'd want to keep Glenn, but I'd fear for Megan's safety if Maggie found out about her, so instead of Glenn, I'd have Greg. Greg and I would go to Mama Mia's to hang out with Glenn.

I sighed when my eyes drifted to the luggage on the curb.

Nongossipy, nonviolent, nondramatic friends definitely wouldn't help me set Fucking Lori Grimes' luggage on fire, and they would probably judge me pretty harshly for even having the thought.

 _Assholes!_

Seems like I was destined to have gossipy, violent, dramatic friends. I could live with that.

"What's with the formula, man?" Glenn was asking Daryl when I walked back into the house.

"It's for the baby," Daryl answered.

I cringed as I closed and locked the door. Daryl didn't know that Gleggie and the Greenes didn't know about Pumpkin, and now it was too late to tell him.

"For Carl?" Maggie asked when I turned and faced the room. "Michonne, why's Carl drinkin' formula again?"

"It's for the other baby," Daryl answered, taking a seat on the arm of the couch that Annette and Hershel were sitting on. "'Chonne, where's Rick? And what did Lori do now?"

 _Damn! Damn! Shit! Fuck! Damn!_

Before my thumb and index finger made it to the bridge of my nose, Gleggie and the Greenes were hurling questions at me at a nonstop, furious pace.

"What other baby?"… "There's another baby?"… "Whose baby?"… "What the fu—What the frick did Olive Oyl do?!"… "When are we lightin' her stuff on fire?"… "Is Rick ok?"… "Where the fu—Where the frick is she?"… "Did she do somethin' to Rick?"… "Where's Rick?"… "WHAT OTHER BABY?"

"This baby!" Rick shouted, silencing everyone as he walked into the room from the bedroom hallway with Judith in his arms.

"Dadu!" Nugget grinned.

"Hi, boss," he smiled, looking at Nugget's cap. "Hi, everyone," he said to everyone. "Hey," he said to me when he was standing beside me.

"Hey, stranger," I said, smiling in relief. "Glad you could make it."

A new slew of questions was being hurled at us, but it just sounded like background noise to me. I was more interested in finding out the story behind Rick and Judith's outfit changes since he was now wearing a black tshirt and she was now wearing a pink onesie with a sparkly crown on it.

"Hi, Pumpkin," I cooed to her.

I offered her my finger, which she grabbed hold of with her impossibly tiny hand. She was such a teeny little thing. Her hands were even smaller than Nugget's were when he was six months old.

"Sorry it took so long for us to come out," Rick said to me. "Right around the time Maggie was questionin' you about bein' in jail, Judy-pie spit up again. And once I finally got her cleaned up and changed, she needed a diaper change."

I laughed at the grimace on his face.

"Was it an old school, Carl-style diaper change?" I asked.

He slowly nodded with the grimace still fixed on his face. "S-H-I-T everywhere."

"Hey! Richonne! Pardon the interruption," Daryl said sarcastically, "but you wanna tell us what's goin' on? Or should we just sit here watchin' you two whisper and make googly eyes at each other? Cuz if we're doin' that, I want popcorn, extra butter."

Rick and I rolled our eyes in tandem at Daryl, but we really did need to fill everyone in on what was going on.

I looked at Rick and silently asked, "You ready to fill everyone in?"

"Don't have much of a choice," he silently answered, "but I am."

And then he winked at me.

He. Winked.

My inner teenage girl with a crush desperately wanted to pull Maggie into the bathroom, lock the door, and squeal over the wink, but I stayed put and gave Rick a quick smile before we turned away from each other to face our family.

"Everyone, this is Judith," Rick began. "She's Lori's daughter, and Lori's claimin' that she's also mine..."

* * *

I sat erect in the recliner, watching the Greenes and waiting for the results.

"Look at that nose," Maggie said while holding Judith up at eye level and studying her face. "No way is this baby Rick's."

Maggie handed Judith off to Beth, who was sitting to her right on the couch. Beth held Judith up at eye level, studied her face, and turned her to the left and to the right.

"Look at those ears," she said. "This baby ain't Rick's."

Beth handed Judith off to Annette, who was sitting to her right on the couch. Annette held Judith up at eye level, studied her face, and looked into her eyes.

"I remember that Walsh boy," Annette said. "She has his eyes. This baby isn't Rick's."

Annette handed Judith to Hershel, who was sitting to her right on the couch. Hershel cradled Judith in his arms and smiled at her when she yawned, stretched, and reached up for his beard.

She'd been fed her formula and burped before the Greenes started inspecting her, so she was a happy little camper in Hershel's arms.

"How certain is Rick that this is his daughter?" he asked me.

"Not very," I replied. "He sees the same things we do when he looks at her."

"So then we're tellin' him when they come back in?" Maggie asked. "Endin' the maybe-baby-daddy drama?"

I shook my head no. While I had all the confirmation I needed, Rick wouldn't want to entertain anymore speculation. He wasn't making any decisions about Judith until the DNA results confirmed that he was or wasn't her father.

"This shit's fucked up!" we heard Daryl angrily shout.

He'd been ranting and raving in the backyard for the past thirty minutes while Rick and Glenn listened and tried to calm him down. Daryl's anger didn't surprise me, but since my Nugget was also outside, I needed him to tone it down. I was giving him one more profanity-filled outburst before I broke up their bro time therapy session and got my son.

"Is Daryl ok?" Beth asked with concern as she watched him through the living room window stalk back and forth.

Beth's concern didn't surprise me either. Gleggie and the Greenes had never seen Daryl react in this way. He came close to showing this side of himself at the farm with Panty Man, but hothead moments were truly a rarity for Daryl.

Rick and I had both lost our shit in the last few days, though, so it was only a matter of time before the asshole trifecta of Fucking Lori Grimes, Panty Man, and That Piece of Shit Shane made Daryl lose his.

After Rick and I explained to everyone what was going on—Fucking Lori Grimes' claim that Judith was Rick's; the suggestion she made that Rick move to Florida without Nugget; Rick kicking her out; That Piece of Shit Shane's phone call to me and his plan to arrive in King County tomorrow; and Rick scheduling a DNA test—Daryl lost it. He was ready to jump on his bike and head to Florida so he could cross paths with That Piece of Shit Shane on the highway and kick his ass.

Rick and Glenn had to drag Daryl to the backyard, mostly to talk him down but also to separate him from the Greenes. As stunned and concerned as the Greenes were by Daryl's reaction, they would get on board with confronting that Piece of Shit Shane on the highway if Daryl ranted and raved in front of them long enough.

"He'll be fine," I told Beth reassuringly. "He just needs a minute."

Only Rick and I fully understood the emotion behind Daryl's reaction. Because of how Daryl grew up, it took a long time for him to feel comfortable around people other than me and Rick. He started letting his guard down in high school, but he has always been more guarded than gregarious with people he doesn't know.

Daryl let his guard down with That Piece of Shit Shane. He liked him. He hung out with him and Rick when I was in Italy. He trusted him enough to convince Rick to finally set up our first date.

It's not that they were especially close—after that memorable for all the wrong reasons date, Daryl stopped hanging out with him without knowing the specifics, but it spoke volumes that Daryl thought That Piece of Shit Shane was worthy of being a part of our circle.

I knew regret was eating away at Daryl the most ferociously right now. In his mind, if he had never let his guard down, That Piece of Shit Shane never would have had a chance to betray Rick, or disrespect Rick, or hurt Rick in the way that he had.

When Daryl lost his shit and Rick and Glenn took him to the backyard, the rest of us moved into the living room. The front room was too cramped for eight adults and two babies to sit in, but the real reason we moved was because the living room led to the backyard, which gave us a front row seat to the backyard drama.

"Michonne, where the h-"

"Safe word!" Beth shouted, interrupting Maggie.

Maggie shot Beth a murderous look that Beth completely disregarded.

"Where... the _heck_ … do you think... Olive Oyl... is?" Maggie asked through gritted teeth.

"No clue," I shrugged. "Rick says she hasn't called him or come back for any of her things out on the curb, and he has no idea what she did after he kicked her out. She may have called someone, walked somewhere, asked a neighbor for help… Who knows? We certainly don't care."

"Well," Hershel said to me with a gentle smile and a twinkle in his eyes, "it sounds to me like a door has closed and a new window has opened for Rick."

I looked away from him when I felt myself start to blush. Thankfully, it was something I was easily able to hide. The Greenes would have a field day if they could see how pink my cheeks were.

 _God bless you, melanin._

"What?!" Beth blurted out. "Daddy, that doesn't make sense! Why would a window open when a door closes? Another door should open."

"Bethy, you would understand what I meant if you had paid attention to any of my sermons when you were growing up," he calmly told her.

"I did pay attention, but what you're sayin' doesn't make sense," she argued.

"Then take that up with the Lord, Bethanne, and let me know what He says after you do," he replied in a singsongy baby voice while smiling at Judith.

Annoyed that she couldn't argue with the Lord, Beth sat back and seethed. "God could be a She," she mumbled.

Although the conversation appeared to have ended, the charged silence in the room said otherwise. It was just a matter of who was going to restart the conversation.

"Bethy has a point," Annette said, restarting it. "Goin' from a door to a window isn't the smartest thang to do. God's word is God's word and all, but if a window is the only thang openin', it's probably best to pick the lock on the door or make a new door yourself."

"You literally use a door to walk in and out of a room! Now you have to climb in and out of a window?" Beth questioned. "That's dumb."

"Beth," Hershel said, using his dad voice.

"But it is!" she whined.

"What's dumb is why anyone is even mentionin' doors and windows," Maggie scoffed. "I already came up with somethin' for Richonne. It's 'Sh-"

"Safe word!" Beth interrupted with what I could only describe as an evil grin.

Maggie shot her another murderous look that Beth once again disregarded.

"It's... 'Poo... or get off... the pot'," Maggie said dispiritedly. "It sounds like… Rick's... ready to… poo."

Using safe words was really taking a toll on Maggie, so I scooted over in the recliner and patted the space next to me, inviting her to sit with me. It was going to be a tight fit, but Maggie jumped up from the couch and squeezed in. She ended up sitting on me rather than next to me after she draped her legs across my lap and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

"All that matters is that whatever Rick's doing, we're glad he's doing it with you," Hershel said to me.

"That's true, Daddy," Maggie said, suspiciously agreeably. Then she whispered in my ear, "Rick wants to shit with you."

 _Oh my God._

"We've been rooting for you two for some time," Annette smiled. "It's a real good thang that thangs are finally happenin'."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah… sunshine, and rainbows, and unicorns, but what about Olive Oyl?" Beth asked. "We need to track her down! And what about the DNA test? Will it be a problem if she's not there for that?"

"I honestly don't know," I sighed. "We'll have to give Dr. Cloyd a call tomorrow."

"Don't you worry, Michonne. One way or another, I'll make sure you have her DNA," Maggie promised, resting her head against mine.

I didn't want to know what she meant by that, so I didn't ask.

"And what are we doin' about that Shane guy?" Beth asked.

 _We?_

If the Greenes were planning on meeting That Piece of Shit Shane tomorrow, there was going to have to be restrictions in place. Namely, no more than two Greenes in attendance.

The door to the backyard opened, and Glenn, Rick, and Daryl, who was carrying a very tired-looking Nugget, walked into the living room. Glenn took a seat next to Beth, and Rick and Daryl sat down on the loveseat across from the recliner.

While I was waving hello to my sleepy little boy, Maggie whispered in my ear, "Do you think Rick walks like that because he has a big Rick in his pants? I bet he does. Look at how he's sittin'."

I tried to shrug her arms off of me, but Maggie just held onto me tighter.

 _Oh my God!_

I refused to look at how Rick was sitting. If I did, my eyes were going to search for the Rick in his pants. I cleared my throat and focused on Daryl.

"Hey, crazy," I said to him. "You good?"

He gave a barely-there shoulder shrug and grunted.

That grunt was not good. It wasn't alarming, but it wasn't good.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

 _That Piece of Shit Shane._

I hated that they were making Daryl grunt that way. I hated how the consequences of their selfish, disgusting behavior had enticed the worst parts of us to come out and play. I hated that Daryl was sulking over something that he truly had no control over.

Maggie, having undoubtedly felt my tension, whispered in my ear, "Do we need to go light some shit on fire?"

I appreciated the offer. She and I could easily excuse ourselves, get the lighter fluid, find some matches, and sneak outside to light Fucking Lori Grimes' shit on fire, but Daryl needed me more than I needed to release my rage. He would work through his feelings in his own time, but in the meantime, I knew exactly what to tell him to put a smile on his face.

"Have you heard the rumors, D?" I asked.

"Oh my God!" Beth squealed. "They're the best! Me and Maggie popped up in one! Tag team champions of the world!"

"And they all end with Rick hulkin' out on Lori's SUV," Maggie laughed.

Rick gave Daryl a look, which I noticed after my eyes quickly scanned his lower half for the Rick in his pants.

"What?" Daryl shrugged nonchalantly. "You said to come up with three rumors, I came up with three rumors."

 _Wait, what?_

" _You_ made those up?" I asked Daryl.

"Mmhmm," he hummed with a small, proud smile. "I told 'em to Birdie. It only took her ten minutes to spread 'em for me."

Suddenly, "dumbass, douchbag, asshole boyfriend" made perfect sense.

"But why all the hulking out?" Glenn asked. "Rick kind of comes across as unstable."

"That's on Rick," Daryl said, smiling just a little bit bigger. "He said we needed to get a jump on the rumors. I did. He said he wanted to protect his lady's reputation. I did… By the way, you're welcome and you're welcome," he said to Rick and then to me.

And there he was... my eyeroll-inducing Daryl.

As pleased as I was that he was feeling a little less agitated, his admission of creating false rumors at Rick's request was doing a number on my heart. It was beating faster and faster, creating a rhythm that had never before pulsed through my veins. The rhythm attacked the entirety of me. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to explode, and then I wanted to be put back together to experience it all over again… and again… and again.

I swallowed hard.

This was much more intense than my inner teenage girl with a crush feelings, but I wasn't sure that I was ready to acknowledge what the intensity of this feeling meant.

"I didn't… I wasn't… I never said she was my lady," Rick shyly stammered.

"Might as well have," Daryl smirked.

When Rick's cheeks burned red—a very bright and very noticeable red, the Greenes pounced. Hershel, Annette, Maggie, and Beth started making kissy faces at Rick, and even Nugget, the little traitor, reached out for his Dadu to give him kisses on his cheek.

I thought I was in the clear of their ridicule until Maggie and Beth started singing, "Rick and Michonne sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage!"

The Greenes had a hearty laugh, and even Pumpkin, the little traitor, giggled along with them.

"But if you think about it, that song doesn't really work since the baby came first," Beth remarked.

"And if you two get married before me and Glenn, I will murder you," Maggie warned.

"Has there even been any kissin' yet?" Annette innocently asked.

"And kissin' only counts if there's tongue!" Beth clarified.

"Richonne hasn't done sh—anythang. When's the last time you even kissed anyone, Rick?" Maggie asked. "Was it with Olive Oyl? Like a year ago?"

Beth shuddered. "I can't believe you kissed that." She shuddered again. "I can't believe you married that. What was so awesome about Olive Oyl anyways? Can't be her sparklin' personality, and when I tackled her, all I felt were bones. Why were you with a crazy ass bag of bones, Rick?"

"Seriously," Maggie agreed. "Why didn't you ever get with M-"

"Alright, girls, that's enough," Hershel interrupted.

"But, Daddy," Beth whined. "We just wanna know why-"

"Girls, I've been on this earth for over sixty years," Hershel said reflectively. "I can honestly tell you that the whys and hows of love aren't some great, complex mystery. I fell in love for the first time at sixteen years old with your mother, and after she passed, I was blessed to fall in love again with Annette. She has taken care of my heart for over twenty years, and it is my sincerest hope that she will continue to do so until the day this ticker gives out."

Hershel gazed at Annette with such a wondrous look of love and adoration in his eyes that I was almost moved to tears by the beauty of it.

"I've experienced the most gut-wrenching and the most breathtaking parts of love," he said. "Those experiences—my experiences with being in love, have taught me the same thing... "

We all listened intently, ready to soak up his next words.

"The love glove is a powerful thing."

 _The love... What?!_

I was so mortified I almost pushed Maggie off my lap.

"Daddy!" Beth screamed in horror.

Maggie jumped up from my lap and put her hands on her hips. "Daddy, I swear to God, if you're talkin' about vaginas..."

Glenn's eyes bulged.

Daryl turned red.

Rick's jaw dropped.

"'Ginas!" Nugget shouted.

"Maybe we should talk about somethin' else, guys," Glenn suggested. "Literally anything else."

"Yes, Maggie, when I speak of the love glove, I do mean the vagina," Hershel said as if he wasn't mentally scarring us all.

"Daddy, stop!" Beth screamed, running out of the room.

"Ew, Daddy!" Maggie said with disgust. "I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever forgive you for talkin' about mama and Annette's vaginas!"

She held her hand out to Glenn, and when he took it, she pulled him out of the room and into the kitchen. It sounded like she went straight for the pot of chili mac & cheese.

Annette whispered something into Hershel's ear, making his cheeks flush a rosy red, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Daryl, why don't we go check on Gleggie and Beth," she said as she stood up.

"Yep," he said, jumping up and rushing out of the room.

"Daryl," I called out before he could make his escape, "Are you good? Not with the…" I trailed off, not wanting to say "love glove". Besides, none of us would ever be good with having heard Hershel say that. "But are you good from earlier?"

He looked annoyed that I'd stopped him, but he shrugged and grunted and then hurried out of the room.

I smiled at Rick. That was a better grunt.

"I apologize for the love glove talk," Hershel said when it was just the three of us, Nugget, and Pumpkin. "Rick, I know my girls—hell, you know my girls, and they were about to start demandin' answers to questions that I suspect you want to discuss privately with Michonne. So I cleared the room."

Maggie and Beth did tend to get aggressive when they wanted answers, and I couldn't recall ever seeing one of their interrogations be shut down so quickly...

I quietly sighed.

I'd never admit it to anyone ever, but the love glove was a necessary evil.

"Michonne, why don't you sit next to Rick and Carl," Hershel requested. "I want to talk to the both of you."

"Ok," I said with a polite smile as I warily got up from the recliner.

"Are we in trouble?" I silently asked Rick as I walked to the loveseat.

"I think we are," he silently answered. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" I silently told him. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" he silently told me when I sat down next to him.

"Muhmuh," Nugget smiled, reaching for me.

I took him from Rick and held him close when he rested his head on my shoulder. Once Hershel was done talking to or disciplining us, Rick and I were going to have to give the kids their baths and put them down for the night. It had been a long day for the both of them.

"I remember when my girls where this tiny," Hershel said quietly, looking down at Judith. "So delicate. So new… Children don't know it until they become parents themselves, but a child steals a parent's heart when they're born. They just take it with an eye blink or a smile or some other unassuming thing, and they think nothing of it when they do."

I smiled and gently rubbed the back of my little heart thief.

"But, in them, we get the greatest miracle and joy of life," he smiled, "so it's a fair trade-off, I suppose."

Hershel rocked Judith in his arms, and that movement paired with his soft voice lulled her right to sleep.

"Rick… Michonne," he said, looking at us, "you know you mean the world to us. Me and Annette, and my girls, and Glenn… we will always be here for you when you need us."

"You all mean the world to us, too," I beamed.

"We can't imagine you not bein' a part of our family," Rick added.

Hershel's face lit up with an appreciative smile before he continued. "I can't imagine how stressful the last few days have been for you two, and I know the next few days will be more of the same," he said, "so I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds with what I'm about to say."

Rick stretched his arm out behind me, resting it on the back of the couch, and I leaned into him, wondering what Hershel wanted to discuss.

"After all of the anger, and drama, and chaos dies down, I'd like you to keep something in mind," he proposed. "Regardless of the DNA results or where Judith lives and who raises her, she's part of the miracle and joy of your lives now... She's Carl's sister," he said. "Rick, even if you're not this little girl's father, she will still be Carl's sister. And in a way, that makes her one of us."

I shifted uncomfortably on the loveseat, already anticipating what Hershel was about to say next.

"You may want to tread lightly with Shane tomorrow, and also with Lori if she's there," he said. "At some point, the four of you are going to have to put aside your differences and work together for Carl and Judith's sake."

 _No._

The idea of working with Fucking Lori Grimes and That Piece of Shit Shane for any reason, even if the reason was for my Nugget, was out of the fucking question.

I shook my head and stood up. "I love you, Pop Pop, but I can't have this conversation," I told him. "Rick, I'll be in the nursery getting Nugget ready for bed."

I walked out of the living room before either Rick or Hershel could say anything.

I was kneeling beside the tub in the nursery's bathroom and watching Nugget babble to his rubber ducky when Rick knocked on the bathroom door.

"Dadu!" Nugget smiled, holding his ducky up.

"What does a ducky say, Carl?" Rick asked, walking into the bathroom. "It says, 'Quack! Quack!'… 'Quack! Quack!'"

Nugget laughed at his daddy, and when he began babbling to his duck again, Rick sat down next to me with his back against the tub and Judith asleep in his arms.

"Hey," he said to me.

"Hey," I said softly, keeping my eyes on Nugget.

"Soooo..." he said after a beat, "I think we have to scrub 'love' and 'glove' from our vocabulary now."

I looked at him and laughed. "I think you might be right about that."

While I was giving Nugget a little mohawk, Rick lightly bumped my shoulder with his.

"Michonne," he said, "it's ok to not be ok right now. It's ok not to think about what happens down the road. Honestly, I don't wanna think past what's happenin' right now. And right now, we have a house full of people who love us, Judy-pie is sound asleep, Carl will be sound asleep in about twenty minutes, and we're here together. That's all that matters to me right now. Anythang else, we'll face as it comes. Ok?"

"Ok," I nodded.

"Ok," he said. "So let's get these babies to bed, and then let's get rid of our crazy family so we can call it a night. Sound like a plan?"

"Sounds like a plan," I smiled.

* * *

I opened my eyes to the sounds of my family sleeping and with one thought on my mind:

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

 _That Piece of Shit Shane._

The thought had infiltrated my sleep, forcing me awake. And judging by how dark the living room was, it had forced me awake entirely too early. I tightened my blanket around me and burrowed deeper into the loveseat.

Once upon a time, sleeping was one of my favorite things to do. But after waking up feeling angry or guilty or hungover or frustrated or distressed or anything but rested over the past few weeks, sleep was turning into one of those necessary evils in my life. At least I could take comfort in knowing that those who I loved the most were sleeping easy.

Gleggie and the Greenes ended up declaring squatter's rights and refusing to leave when Rick and I thanked them for stopping by. It was a given that Daryl would be staying the night, so I was touched that Gleggie and the Greenes also wanted to stay. Rick and I wouldn't have minded alone time, but we were too tired to argue with four Greenes and a Rhee.

Everyone agreed that Hershel and Annette would sleep in the guest room.

Rick decided to sleep in the living room because he wasn't sure if Fucking Lori Grimes had done anything in his bed that would require burning the sheets. Little did he know, I was eventually going to insist that he get rid of the entire bed.

Since I wanted to be close to Rick but didn't want to ask him to sleep in my room with Gleggie and the Greenes there, I decided to sleep in the living room as well.

Gleggie wanted to sleep in my room, but I didn't trust Maggie to keep things PG in my bed, so they were voluntold to sleep in the living room.

Daryl was planning to sleep in my room, but when Maggie was six minutes into a very impassioned speech about how unjust it was that Daryl got to sleep in a bed when a pregnant woman didn't, he agreed to sleep in the living room to shut her up.

Beth called dibs on the recliner and then disappeared to take a call from Noah.

I hadn't planned on waking up until 8AM, but I wasn't sure that I wanted to try to go back to sleep if thoughts of Fucking Lori Grimes and That Piece of Shit Shane were going to wake me up again, so I stared into the darkness of the room and listened to the sounds of everyone's slumber.

There was Gleggie's in sync breathing coming from the couch. There was Beth's loud buzzsaw snoring coming from the recliner. There was Daryl's softer hum of a snore coming from the floor. There was Rick's...

I didn't hear Rick.

I sat up and found my phone lodged between the cushions of the loveseat and turned on the flashlight. When I saw his empty airbed, I shed my blanket and used my flashlight to walk to the nursery, thinking maybe he was looking in on the babies.

I carefully opened the nursery door and peeked in the nursery. Because the room was lit with a night light, I could see that the babies were still soundly sleeping and that Rick wasn't in there with them. I quietly closed the door and walked down the hallway past the guest bedroom and Rick's room. When I got to my room, I flipped on the light switch, but the room was empty. I turned the light off and walked into the front room, and that's where I found Rick, standing in the moonlight and staring out the window.

He turned to look at me as I was setting my phone down on an end table.

 _Wow._

Rick looked so breathtaking bathed in moonlight. I walked over to him, pulled by a magnetism that I couldn't fight, not that I would try to fight it.

"Hey," I whispered.

"Hey," he whispered back.

I saw the troubled look on his face, and instinctively, I cupped his stubbled cheek. He closed his eyes and nuzzled his face against my palm.

"I still owe you," he whispered, slowly opening his eyes.

 _Wow._

Even in the moonlight, those blue eyes were just too damn gorgeous.

"What?" I asked, realizing he'd just said something.

"I still owe you a massage," he whispered, turning his head into my palm so that his lips brushed against it as he spoke.

My toes curled against the hardwood beneath my feet. "Oh yeah," I breathed out. "You do."

Now was as good a time as any to collect on it.

My bedroom was empty...

Everyone was asleep...

But there was a huge hurdle coming between me and my sprint to my bedroom. I couldn't forget that troubled look. There was only one reason he would be awake and staring out the window with a troubled mind this late. It was the same reason I was awake.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

 _That Piece of Shit Shane._

"You'll still owe me a massage tomorrow," I told him, lightly squeezing his cheek and pulling my hand away. "Talk to me, Rick. Tell me what's wrong."

It was almost undetectable, but I noticed his shoulders stiffen. "I… It's nuthin'," he shrugged.

"We both know that's not true," I replied. "Are you anxious about tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't call it anxious," he replied gruffly.

"Then what would you call it?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Michonne-"

I pulled his hand down and looked him in his eyes. "Rick, everyone's reaction to Fucking Lori Grimes or That Piece of Shit Shane has been stronger than yours. You have every right to be the one who loses his shit in the loudest, craziest, angriest way, but you haven't. Talk to me. Please."

His jaw tensed, but he didn't say anything.

"And I know I haven't always been the most receptive when it comes to listening to you talk about Lori, but I'm listening now."

His face hardened. "She cheated on me, she disappeared, she hates Carl, she wants me to raise what could be _Shane's_ child, and she threatened you with my bat," he growled. "What's there to talk about, Michonne?"

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

That crazy, evil bitch.

"Then what's on your mind?" I asked before the urge to get the lighter fluid, find some matches, and head outside became too strong.

When he looked away stubbornly, I put my hands on my hips.

"We're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong, so if you want to stand here and stare at each other the rest of the night, then we'll stand here and stare."

Rick knew I was serious. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

"I just… I keep thinkin' about if I did somethin' to push Lori away without realizin' it," he confessed. "Did I talk enough? Did I listen enough? Did I pay enough attention to her? Did I do enough?"

"I don't understand," I said, crossing my arms. "Are you blaming yourself for how things are right now? Are you regretting that things are the way they are?"

"No! That's not it," he said firmly.

"Then what is it?" I asked, trying not to grow frustrated by my lack of understanding.

"If… if I did somethin', anythang to push her away, I..."

"You what?" I asked.

"I wanna know so I don't..."

"So you don't what?" I asked.

His partially expressed thoughts were nudging me towards the frustration I was trying to avoid. I needed him to tell me something soon.

"So I don't make those same mistakes with you," he said quietly. "I'm thinkin' about every misstep I may have made because I don't wanna screw this up. I don't wanna screw us up, Michonne."

 _Oh._

"Oh," I whispered.

We stared at each other, and my heart raced in that special rhythm just for him.

"Rick," I said, placing my hands on his chest. "Your marriage isn't over because of what you did or didn't say or do. It's over because Lori is Lori—a whore, a liar, and exceptionally cruel."

I took a step closer to him and slowly moved my hands up to his shoulders.

"You are a good man, Rick Grimes. You have your flaws, but you are a good man," I stressed. "And I'm not Fucking Lori Grimes. I know you. I know your heart," I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck and gazing up at him. "You won't ever push me away, and I would never hurt you like she did. Never."

He let out a breath that he seemed to have been holding in and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Thank you," he said softly, gazing down at me.

He slightly tilted his head to the right as his eyes roamed my face.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered. "So beautiful."

My butterflies fluttered themselves awake and I smiled.

Rick thought I was beautiful.

I eyed his lips, which were still so perfectly pink in the moonlight, and I inched closer to them.

"Michonne," Rick whispered.

I inched even closer, tightening my arms around his neck, pressing my body into his.

"Michonne, wait," he whispered, pulling his head back before our lips could touch. "We can't do this. This can't be it... This can't be our first kiss."

 _Huh?_

"Thangs aren't settled yet, and we still need to talk."

 _Huh?_

"Lori's a whore. Shane's a piece of shit. That's settled. And we just talked," I said, staring at his lips and starting to feel a little frantic over not getting to taste them.

He gently pushed me away by my waist until there was space between our bodies, although my arms remained wrapped around his neck and his arms remained wrapped around my waist.

When he looked at me with a resolved look in his eyes, I felt the moment slipping away.

"I want everythang about our first kiss—your last first kiss, to be perfect," he said.

"Imperfection isn't a dealbreaker for me, Rick. And come on… _'I know you. I know your heart. You won't ever push me away,_ '? That's perfect, first kiss stuff," I argued.

"It was," he smiled, "but Lori's still a problem right now. I don't want her hangin' over our heads, and I don't wanna be married to her the first time we kiss."

I felt a groan-scream building.

 _Fucking Lori Grimes._

"Stop poutin', sweetheart," Rick whispered softly.

I was about to deny that I was pouting until I saw the way he was looking at my pouting lips.

I poked my bottom lip out just a little more.

"Michonne," he huskily breathed out, digging his fingers into my waist.

"You two ok in here?" Daryl's gravelly morning voice asked out of nowhere.

I nodded, not bothering to look at him.

"Yeah," Rick answered, not bothering to tear his eyes from my pouting lips.

"Jesus. Get a room, assholes," he grumbled. "But I'm takin' your room, 'Chonne. Beth sounds like a goddamn lawnmower and Maggie has gas. Smells like a goddamn barn in there," he said crankily. "Chili mac & cheese is banned from my house."

I heard him walk away, and then I heard him close and lock my bedroom door.

 _Wait…_

"Maggie has gas! And he just stole our bed!" I complained, dropping my arms from Rick's neck.

"And he's bannin' chili mac & cheese," Rick complained, giving my waist a squeeze and then dropping his hands. "What an uh-sole."

I rolled my eyes.

If Maggie's gas didn't kill our first kiss, then his use of "uh-sole" absolutely did.

"Let that word go, Rick. _Please_ ," I begged as I grabbed his hand and led him back to the living room.

"It's a good word," he whispered.

"It's not a good word," I whispered back.

"It'll catch on," he whispered.

"It's not catching on," I whispered back.

Once we were in the living room, I cracked a window and Rick lit a candle. He tried to wake Beth up to get her to stop snoring, but that just made her snore louder.

"I can kick Daryl outta your bed if you wanna sleep in it," he said, tucking me in when I was laying on the loveseat again.

" _I_ can kick Daryl out of my bed if I want to sleep in it," I scoffed.

"I know, I know... but I like protectin' you," he shyly admitted.

I smiled at him, very much liking that he liked protecting me.

"You do realize that you'll have to dress up as the Hulk this Halloween, don't you?" I asked.

"Yeeaaaah, I know," he sighed. "But maybe you can dress up as Black Widow… wear one of those tight-"

"Don't let Marvel be the thing that breaks us up before we even get started, Rick. You know I'm a DC girl," I said, turning my back on him.

"That's right. You're my Bat Girl," he teased.

I groaned and pulled my blanket over my head.

"Goodnight, Michonne," Rick said, pulling back the blanket to kiss the top of my head.

"Goodnight, Rick," I grinned.

* * *

 **A/N:** The "A Family Affair" chapters were my last hurrah chapters for Team Family. It was the last opportunity I had to include everyone—Richonne, Gleggie, Daryl, Beth, Hershel, Annette, Nugget, and Pumpkin, in one chapter before the story ends. I hope you enjoyed!

Shane's up next!

Thank you for reading! Reviews are appreciated!


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